


The Prize

by thisismyshameaccount



Series: The Prize [1]
Category: Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Movies), War of the Planet of the Apes (2017)
Genre: Breeding, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-04 03:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismyshameaccount/pseuds/thisismyshameaccount
Summary: The ALZ granted the gift of intelligence to apes, but took another away: fertility. Injured and half-starved, you're found and brought to the ape colony, where you're met with a shocking offer. Community, food, warmth, and shelter can be yours... if you consent to being bred by their alpha.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags, and use them to decide whether or not you wish to proceed! Also note that though I originally intended this to be a short, fun, smutty reader fic, it evolved into something bigger - and while I decided to maintain second person point-of-view simply for continuity, it will proceed much as if the character is an OC.

* * *

 

 

_Intelligence. Language. Greater height, dexterity, and problem-solving skills. Altered eye color. The ALZ granted these gifts to apes, but took one away: fertility._

_In the ape colony tucked away in the forest once known as Muir Woods, the youngest in the colony was seven. His mother, one of the last fertile females, had died in a complicated childbirth. There had not been a single baby born since, and only a handful of miscarriages._

_In desperation a tentative, last-ditch suggestion was made at the council: interbreeding with humans._

_The reaction could only be described as mixed. There were outraged screeches and thoughtful hoots, shrugs of acceptance and brows twisted in skepticism. Talk ranged from the taking of captives, or finding a human settlement (if any still existed) and forming some kind of agreement. Hands flashed in a flurry of signs: what if humans were infertile, too? What if they'd all died out? Surely a pregnancy would not succeed?_

_The council ran long into the night, and by the time it finally disbanded, the first wash of sunrise glowed pink on the horizon._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Your tongue was as dry as sandpaper, your temple sticky with what you sensed was blood, and your memories no more than hazy snippets. You'd been walking on your regular route to the river for water, the rocky bank slick and icy from the night's freeze; you remembered your feet slipping out from under you and the crack of pain lancing through your skull.

There had been flashes of unfamiliar faces, the uneven sway of being carried, a cacophony of strange hoots and calls closing in around you. Now as you pulled yourself from the fog you were aware of the charred scent of a fire, and a mat of something soft beneath you.

Somehow, before you even cracked open your eyes, you knew you were being observed.

You were in a large, low cave, and a small distance from you sat two apes. You hadn't seen apes in years but with a lurch of fear you recognized the russet fur of an orangutan and the dark, distinctive silhouette of an extremely large chimpanzee.

To your disbelief they appeared to be actually communicating via sign language. Impossible; a hallucination from the blow to the head. Through your lashes you watched with stunned fascination, tracking their big hands: the easy fluidity of the movements, the changes in facial expression, a shrug here or a scowl there, punctuated by low sounds in their throats.

You'd heard rumors, of course; monkeys in the woods. Clever ones. The virus that killed people, some claimed, in turn made apes smart. So many had been slaughtered by panicked people during the Flu, but it wasn't unreasonable to assume some could have fled into the wilderness. And while gossip is just that, there were enough stories to convince you there had to be some truth to it.

But this was no diseased band of escaped animals.

They knew you were awake, you realized, as heads swiveled in your direction. Your heart skittered in your chest. You said nothing, but it was pointless to feign sleep. You raised your head and your vision swam; you breathed long and slow, willing the nausea to pass. It trickled away, and you tucked your legs under you and cautiously sat up.

The chimpanzee mirrored you, rising upright and drawing closer. Shoulders squared, he looked hard at you down his flat nose.

He possessed not just the strong brow typical of his species but especially heavy-lidded eyes, intense and startling in color: a crystalline golden-green. His mouth was stern as he assessed you and his gaze was sharp, missing nothing. An animal power imbued him but it was not mere animal intelligence observing you. The _more_ of him was in his carriage, his countenance, the self-possessed grace of his movements.

This ape was smart, self-aware, and all but human.

“Alone?” The word rumbled out of him.

You could only stare. His voice was deep and rough, as if rusty with disuse, but he'd... _spoken_.

“Yes,” you whispered back. “I'm alone.”

Perhaps you should've lied. Told him you had friends in the woods who would be looking for you. Friends with weapons.

Too late now.

“Apes... found you,” he informed you, and even with his stilted cadence, his tone was brusque. “Hurt.”

“Thank you,” you offered hoarsely. He gave no response to that as he turned, tossing a few signs the orangutan's way. Whether it was the injury or the shock of talking primates – or a cumulative effect – you felt lightheaded again and went down on your elbow, squeezing your eyes shut until you saw stars.

When you reopened them the ape had vanished. In his place was the orangutan, looming over you with a look you could only interpret as... kind. With one long-fingered hand he gave your arm a single, soothing pat, and his intention was clear – stay. Rest. As you sank back down you slipped smoothly back into the mantle of sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You did not wake until the next morning. Breakfast was brought – berries and some kind of cooked root – along with a pungent paste of herbs for your head wound. This was administered by a small chimpanzee, face adorned with a feathered veil that, in what you were sure was no coincidence, resembled a surgical mask. Behind it, the chimp's eyes were curious.

You'd been deposited on a pile of furs near the cave entrance, and from your vantage point you were free to watch the apes passing by on the sheltered plateau of rock below. Their sheer numbers would've been surprise enough, but the complexity of their existence was astounding. Wood shelters joined by ladders and ramps butted up against the cliff-face, winding through and around tree trunks for support. From cooking fires and groups weaving baskets, or the faded alphabet scratched on a rock wall, there was little to distinguish the goings-on from a human village. You'd never have guessed the San Francisco apes you saw on the news all those years ago would not just survive, but flourish so remarkably.

When the bright sky began to deepen to twilight, the big green-eyed ape reappeared. The way he moved around the cave confirmed it must be his; you'd concluded from its size and furnishings, and from watching the others' behavior around him, that he must hold some position of importance.

Without acknowledging you he retrieved kindling and a flint stone from deeper in the cave and set about making a fire in the shallow pit. He completed the task with skill and ease, not the clumsy fumbling of an animal taught a few parlor tricks.

As the fire sprang to life he sat down on a ledge across from you. His gaze was laser focused, his posture still. You wrapped your arms around your knees as if for self-protection, trying to maintain eye contact.

“Tell... me,” the ape began, his raspy baritone careful. “About humans.”

As you tried to form a response to this broad statement, he clarified, pairing his words with signs. “How many?”

“Few,” was your eventual reply. “As far as I know.”

It had been six months since you'd lived with people. After the Flu everything had devolved into chaos, nothing but the mad scramble just to stay alive. After falling in with one rag-tag band after another you'd finally had enough, and taken your chances and set off on your own. It had been difficult: the scavenging for food and supplies, the sick belly when you ate something you shouldn't have, the aching loneliness. But no one was trying to kill you or steal what you had. It had been... alright.

That is, until the weather turned south, and the brisk fall days began their downward turn to the biting nights of winter.

You'd sunk into introspection, chin on your crossed arms, hypnotized by the flames' reliable orange flicker. You found the ape's eyes again. They were fierce and vivid, even in the dim light, and astute.

“Cold... nights,” he observed. “You... have home?”

“I was living in an abandoned camper,” you explained. “Worked great until the temperatures dropped, and it started to leak.”

“Stay with apes.” It sounded more like a command than an offer. “Food. Shelter.”

“Wow, I – thank you.” You were taken aback by the generosity. True, your heart leaped at the thought of regular meals and a warm, dry place to sleep... but you were a stranger. Another species, even, one that had been hostile to his in the past. Why would these apes extend the hand of friendship so readily?

“Children,” he rumbled, interrupting your thoughts. “Young. Babies.”

“Uh... babies?” you repeated, not sure if you understood correctly. “What about them?”

“Humans... still... have?”

“Yes?” It came out like a question, unsure what he was getting at.

An indefinable emotion passed across his face, and his brow grew even tauter as he regarded you intently. It occurred to you that in your time observing the village today, the only apes you'd seen had been adult-sized.

“Apes... have none.” He seemed to be turning inward, searching for the words. It was clear that his lack of vocabulary had no bearing on his intelligence. “Sick inside.”

“Apes are infertile?” You said it more to yourself than him, but he nodded in confirmation. The fire's glow illuminated his arresting features, and despite your uncertainty about this entire situation you found your attention glued to the striking image.

“Baby.” His eyes could bore holes in you. “Human... and ape.”

You blinked. Something was lost in translation.

“Male ape,” he stated. His gaze flicked down to your abdomen. “And female human. Together.”

“No.” Your denial was strangled; almost a laugh. But his face was determined and deadly serious, as if conscious of the impact his words were having on you.

“That isn't going to work,” you blurted out, as if inter-species reproductive biology was your chief concern.

He tilted his head and considered. Your heart pounded in the interim. In the end all he said was, “maybe.”

“But you said apes are infertile!?”

“Most.” He glanced out to the cave's entrance. “Mainly females.”

“That's a bad idea,” you stammered. “That's crazy.”

“Necessary.”

“Well, you don't expect _me_ to...?”

“Few humans left,” he remarked, repeating your words back at you, as if that explained all and his word was final.

Your hands began to tremble. The fire blurred and you lowered your head, fighting the surge of shock and failing. To your humiliation you felt hot, unwanted tears pricking your eyes.

You risked a furtive glance up at the ape. He looked... unsettled. Put off. Did apes cry? These ones must. They weren't mindless animals. And so how could they expect you to be their... incubator? It was barbaric.

You stared down, attempting to harden your expression into something as hard as the rocky ground. Was this just how their society worked? They offered food and shelter and safety, and in return you gave them... your body?

It wouldn't be the first time you'd come across the opportunity to trade sex for necessities. You had yet to take that route... but it had never been outside your realm of possibility.

You raised your head again when a shadow blocked the fire's light. The ape had crossed around it and sat now on his haunches, his eye level just a shade above yours. It wasn't caring in his face, exactly – his brow was as rigid as ever – but there was a sort of subtle empathy that radiated out from those hooded eyes. It startled and transfixed you.

“Caesar,” he said, and touched his chest.

“Caesar,” you repeated automatically, a mere whisper. “That's you.”

The ape extended one hand and brushed away a stray tear clinging to your cheek. You flinched at the contact, so soon after the bombshell he'd dropped. His knuckle was calloused, the contact feather-light and fleeting, and he withdrew almost as soon as he'd reached out.

“You can go,” he said, jerking his chin towards the mouth of the cave. “Can... leave. Not a... a...”

“Prisoner,” you supplied.

“Not a prisoner.”

“Can I think about it?” It sounded hollow and false even to your own ears.

He put one meaningful fist on the ground. “Caesar's home,” he grunted. “Stay here.”

“Okay,” was all you could manage. “Okay.”

But you weren't sure if it was an invitation, or an order.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You steadfastly ignored Caesar for the rest of the evening, speaking only to mutter your thanks when he brought you a wicker bowl of roasted fish. He went out again, and when he returned he retreated into the depths of the cave without a word.

Think about it!? The concept was beyond comprehension.

Humans. And apes. Breeding.

Unthinkable.

It took eons of tossing and turning to fall asleep and the next morning you remained in your spot, huddled in the furs for warmth and unwilling to get up and deal with your predicament. You'd half expected to wake up in your rickety old camper.

Caesar held court on the large ledge just outside the cave and apes came and went, conversing with him and each other. Your face burned each time one glanced at you. Could you do this? Have... _sex_ with one of them? Did you have a choice? The thought of slogging back out into the freezing, indifferent woods made your stomach sink down into your worn boots.

Which ape would it be? By now it was obvious that Caesar was their leader, so would he be responsible for choosing? Is that what they were discussing now? Would you have to do it several times, until a pregnancy stuck?

A pregnancy. Good God! What a thought. You didn't believe anything could actually result of this or else you wouldn't even consider it.

You took mental stock of your rundown camper, with its flimsy, squeaking mattress and soggy floor, of curling as close as possible to the fire without being burned, of opening expired canned goods with a hammer and a nail. You cringed at the memories of your pitiful hunting attempts, and vomiting all night after trying some mystery berries, and walking until your feet blistered because you couldn't find a working car and your socks were soaking wet enough to squelch with each step.

The idea of mating with an animal made your gorge rise – but they were not like the zoo creatures of your childhood. You took in their inquisitive, interested glances, one after another, each alight with the spark of intelligence and understanding as they communicated with each other. You were fascinated anew at how emotions manifested on their faces no differently than those of humans. Though you couldn't understand their sign language, their expressions and body language transcended species.

The chimp in the veil returned, examining your wound and gibbering in approval. The pain had all but subsided, leaving only a small tender spot. Time would tell if it would scar; no matter either way, just another added to the collection. You wondered what would've happened had you been left to bleed on the river bank. Would you have come around a day later, cold and sore but none the worse for wear? Or would you not have woken up at all?

Your wandering thoughts were brought firmly back to reality when Caesar materialized out of the back of the cave. He finished his conversation with another ape, dismissed him, then turned your way. You should at least look him in the eye, you decided, so you disentangled yourself from the furs and stood. It was unavoidable, noticing again how intimidatingly large he was – broad, muscular, and standing an inch or two above you.

Not a zoo animal at all.

“I'll do it,” you said in a rush, before nerves claimed your tongue and made you back out. Once the words were free you can't believe you'd said them.

Caesar processed this, then grunted in what sounded like satisfaction. You rubbed damp, shaky palms on your cargo pants.

“Who do I have to... do this with?” You thought of the apes you'd seen, trying to determine which of them would be the most tolerable. Regardless, you could just close your eyes and endure until it was over.

Something changed in his face, something almost imperceptible.

“With... me.”

Your stomach flipped not with alarm, or revulsion, but something else you couldn't pin down. “Why you?”

Caesar's brows drew further together. “I have son.”

Oh. He was a proven entity, then. That would make sense. “Who's your son? Who's his mother? Do you have a... a partner? A wife?”

Please let him not have a wife.

Caesar considered the barrage of questions. “Son is Blue Eyes.” He paused before his next answer. “Not wife. Just... together, for a while. Dead, now. In... childbirth.”

How comforting. At least you wouldn't be the other woman.

“Must eat,” he instructed, gruff and business-like. “Must be... healthy.”

At least you would eat well. Too many times lately you'd felt yourself drifting closer and closer to starvation.

He gestured and you followed him down the wooden ramp to the plateau below. Several large cooking fires burned and he led you to the nearest. On a spit over the flames was what looked like a skinned rabbit, and a small female was tending it. She and Caesar exchanged signs, his level and hers animated, the beads over her ear clicking. Her perusal of you was wary, and you felt deeply out of place as you sat down cross-legged by the fire.

Caesar touched your shoulder to get your attention and you jumped at the contact, even through the layers of shirt and sweater and coat.

“Leaf,” he said by way of introduction. “Will... give you all you need.”

And with that he left.

Leaf was clearly as unsure about you as you were about, well, everything, and communication was a struggle. But she gave you the choicest morsels of meat and demonstrated how to get the rich marrow out of the bones, and outfitted you with a water gourd with a rope shoulder strap. She showed you where to refill it, and where to relieve yourself, and the closest path to both a bubbling creek and the wide and rushing river it joined. Two apes fished, jostling and horsing around in between attempts with their spears.

You did not see Caesar at all. He could be anywhere in the sprawling compound, or in the forest beyond, and it was almost a relief to get a reprieve from that piercing stare. Eyes still followed you, though, heads craning as you passed, but there seemed to be no malice in the attention. You were a novelty, and you could only assume they all knew what your intended purpose was.

Night fell earlier now and when the pair you'd seen fishing earlier brought home their catch, the silvery trout were divvied up equally. Better than you could say for the humans you'd known in recent years, who'd snatch food right out of someone's mouth as soon as share it.

You sat close to the fire to stave off the creeping chill, and ate with gusto – there seemed to be no afternoon meal here, and your belly was clenched with hunger you were well acquainted with – but though the roasted fish was delicious, you choked on it when Caesar appeared in your peripheral vision. He saw you, but did not speak to you, and ate among a knot of apes, including the orangutan you'd met and a scarred bonobo who stared at you through a milky, unseeing eye. There was another chimp, smaller and lither than Caesar, who sat close to him – his face was youthful and earnest and his gaze sky blue.

You took the opportunity to observe Caesar discreetly. It was increasingly easy to think of him as a _person_ rather than an animal: his carriage was upright, and his rugged features – lighter in color than those of the other apes – were serious and shrewd. His name was appropriate and you wondered how he'd come by it, and about his life before the Flu.

A little hoot turned your head, and Leaf loaded up your bowl with more steaming trout.

The apes seemed to enjoy the communal aspect of eating and sat around the fires until long after dark fell before clearing away the dinner mess and retreating to individual homes. Within them, smaller fires sprang to life, dozens of little orange beacons dotting the cliff face.

Caesar's attention was on you now, like a spotlight cutting across the open courtyard. The resulting swell of anxiety almost sent your meal right back up. You hadn't had alcohol in years – when it could be found, it was smarter to trade it for actual essentials – but by God you could use a drink. Something to numb the racing thoughts, to quiet the voice of sanity that cried, _what are you doing!?_ This all felt like the feverish dreams brought on by those wild mushrooms you'd tried once.

Maybe you should find some. It might make this easier.

Caesar's movements were purposeful as he headed your direction and you froze in your spot, feigning sudden interest in your empty water gourd as he loomed over you.

He did not speak, and his silence said everything.

“Now?” you croaked. “Tonight?”

His nod of confirmation was just a single, almost imperceptible downward tip of his chin.

You tucked your feet under you in preparation to stand, praying for trust in your unsteady limbs. He offered you his hand, and you stared at it like it was a foreign thing before accepting. His fingers around yours were calloused and warm but, as if sensing your trepidation, he released you as soon as you were upright.

Adrenaline zinged through you like electricity, throwing your surroundings into stark, hyper-detailed relief: the tightly lashed branches of the ramp winding up to Caesar's home, the distant scratching of insects in the woods, the twin torches burning brightly on either side of his cave. The entrance yawned like a mouth, flickering with shadows and ready to consume you.

And in you went.

You passed your heap of furs and moved further into the cave. Baskets and racks lined the walls, hung with nets of dried fruits and unidentified bags, and half a dozen spears in varying sizes cast a row of parallel shadows. His bed – you supposed it was technically a nest, a wide bowl woven from thin branches and lined with furs – sat on a low wooden platform on a high point in the cave, lit by the golden glow of another torch.

You swallowed hard.

Clumsily, before you could overthink it, you began peeling off your layers as if removing armor. Clothing piled up by the nest: boots and socks, jacket, sweater, flannel button-up, leaving you only in a thin camisole and your trousers. The cave floor was smooth and cool on your bare feet. When you reached for your fly your fingers stopped cooperating, the button somehow impossible to force through the hole –

You could sense him behind you, as if every nerve in your body and every tiny hair was alert in anticipation of his nearness. His fur brushed the naked skin of your upper back and a frisson raced down your spine. Each moment that passed that he didn't touch you seemed like an eternity, and when he finally put his hands on your waist, you jumped.

With light pressure he spun you to face him. His posture was restrained, the swoop of his brow so low it cast a shadow over his eyes, leaving them black and menacing in the dim light.

“Afraid?” Though his impassive features revealed nothing, his words were laced with what you would swear was concern.

“Yeah,” you replied, and your voice cracked.

“I... care for apes' future.” You could tell he was frustrated at his inability to express the complex sentiments necessary for the circumstances. He tilted his head, frowning, his eyes catching the light at last. The flames speckled them with gold. “But I... do not... want to cause fear, or pain.”

His hands were still on you, large and steady. You searched yourself, and found no urge to push him away... and could tell the exact moment he was aware of this. Language may be rudimentary between you but in this moment, there was crystal clarity.

“No fear,” he repeated, and then his mouth was on your neck. You simultaneously gasped at the brazenness of it, and stiffened at the unfamiliar sensation. With powerful arms he drew you flush against him and on reflex you clutched at his shoulders for balance. His fur was surprisingly dense and without thinking you sank your fingers into its inviting softness, without stopping to consider how he might interpret that.

You allowed yourself to be backed up to the nest and without warning he flipped you around and pushed you on all fours. The bluntness of it was a shock, even more so as he yanked your trousers down around your knees as if the sturdy fabric was as flimsy as silk. The nest creaked under his weight and his fur tickled the backs of your thighs as he shoved your panties aside, cupping your mound in his rough palm. It had been so long since you'd been touched this way, by anybody, and despite yourself your body responded intuitively to him. One thick finger slid down to circle your clit and you inhaled sharply.

Where did he learn to do that!?

It was almost humiliating, the ease with which he had you wet and panting, and you were glad he couldn't see your face. He must be doing this for practical purposes, you reason vaguely, to ensure your body was ready and receptive for him – and it was, you could feel your own slippery fluids on his massive hand, feel the heat rising in your core.

You had tried not to dwell on what his genitalia might be like but the heavy, velvety head that now rubbed against your folds felt no different than that of a human man. He mounted you with a relentless press forward, your breath escaping in a hiss as your walls stretched to accommodate him. He wasted no time in setting the pace, each thrust weighty with purpose, slamming in as if he sought to reach the deepest parts of you. His hands were firm on your waist, each snap of his hips jerking you forward, and you concentrated on bracing yourself against it. You had to push back, to counterbalance the force of his movements, and with each grind of your ass into him you felt the high, the swelling _need_ ; but inexplicably you fought it, tamping down the cresting pleasure and gritting your teeth so hard it hurt. Some part of you still resisted the taboo of this, refusing to believe you could be enjoying it despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary –

He climaxed without a sound but you could feel every throb of his thick cock, pumping his seed deep inside you. His fingers pressed ovals into your skin, holding your body rigid until he was spent. When he released you you collapsed onto your forearms, panting into the animal hides, overwhelmed with confused and unsatisfied desire. He withdrew, and ran one hand up your back to push you gently down.

“Stay put,” he ordered in a low rumble. “Be... still, for a while.”

“Okay,” you murmured, rolling on your side. His come was sticky between your thighs and you curled your knees up towards your chest, watching him as he rose.

There was something heated in the shameless, serious way he gazed on you, as if envisioning his seed taking hold in your womb. It wouldn't, couldn't; but the apes must be truly desperate to take this drastic option to save themselves from extinction.

With a jolt you were struck by the full extent of your relief that it was him you did this with, and not some other ape. You weren't sure you could have borne that. But Caesar – both a stranger and another species – was, with his human-like features and keen gaze, somehow... different.

Whatever his thoughts, he kept them to himself. He sat alone by the fire, and as you watched his back silhouetted in gold, your eyelids grew heavier and heavier of their own accord until you could fight sleep no longer.

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

 

_Quiet reigned for a time as Caesar sat by the fire. He was not often alone, and before long a figure came loping up the ramp that led to Caesar's home. The bonobo waited for Caesar's permission before approaching and as he did, his attention focused into the impenetrable depths of the cave. Though its sleeping occupant was not visible, Koba's craggy features were further marred with distrust._

_**I do not like anything about this,** he signed as he joined his leader, his hands casting shadows on the ground. _

_**You know I initially shared your doubts,** Caesar responded. **But what future do we have without family?**_

_**We are already a family.** _

_Caesar smiled in fond acknowledgment._

_**Apes are strong,** Koba insisted. **Human blood will make us weak.** His signing grew more erratic, and he humphed with disgust. **Their taint will be on our children. It will poison us.** _

_Caesar shot Koba a level stare. **Would it be better to die out, to fade into nothing, as if we never were?**_

_Koba did not respond, but lowered his head in submission. Caesar sighed, the tension subsiding. **Besides, nothing may come of it.**_

_Koba snorted with satisfaction at that. **How long must this human stay?**_

_The pair sat in silence – one fidgeting, the other contained – before Caesar caught his advisor's attention again, signing firmly, **If by spring, there is no result, she will go.**_

_Koba looked pleased, but knew not to push any further. Instead he changed the subject. **You will hunt with us tomorrow?**_

_**Be ready before first light** , Caesar signed, and rose to let Koba know he was dismissed. _

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first of the morning birds were trilling, the cave still and shadowed with the last indigo remnants of night.

You'd always been a light sleeper, especially in unfamiliar surroundings, but it was a deep and dreamless slumber you awakened from. Your forehead was chilly above the bear pelt that cocooned you, and on either side of you the nest was empty. If Caesar had been here while you slept, you hadn't felt it.

Your fingers were stiff with cold as you dressed, and you hoisted the heavy pelt and wrapped it snugly around yourself. Your mouth was dry, and your gourd empty; and though you knew the stream would be frigid, you craved at least a quick wash.

The courtyard was quiet and empty as you skirted around it, a scattered few apes moving about at the fringes. You kept your head down, wishing you could pass by invisibly.

You wondered if they could smell Caesar on you.

When you reached the creek you traveled downstream, to lessen the chance of encountering anyone. The first colorless rays of sunlight filtered through the mist, and the echoing rat-tat-tat of a woodpecker far above punctuated the stillness of dawn. Over the past weeks the fog had rolled in, like a quilt that muffled sound and dampened hair and brought the bone-deep cold with it.

You found a suitable place, where the stream crooked through a copse of alder saplings, and draped your coat over a low branch before stripping from the waist down. You steeled yourself and plunged in up to the knees, regretting it immediately and swearing at the icy current. You hurried to wash your groin and thighs and beat a hasty retreat to the bank.

You hadn't thought Caesar had been particularly rough last night, but there was still a lingering discomfort making itself known as you huddled on a convenient dry rock. He was large, and powerful, his bicep alone twice the size of yours. How much of his strength had he been holding back?

You splashed your grimy face, and decided to give your underwear a wash as well. You'd have to go back to the camper for more clothing – though you no longer knew where that was. It must be far, or else you would've encountered apes before now. Your trousers stuck to your clammy skin as you tugged them on commando, then your coat, and dried your feet vigorously with the pelt before stuffing them back into socks and boots. You should've brought your gourd to refill, you chided yourself, and bent to scoop a handful of water and drink thirstily.

When you raised your head your heart clenched with a shot of startled adrenaline. Apes were materializing from the trees, dark shapes appearing among the criss-cross of the branches.

You understood now why the village had been so quiet.

The scene was breathtaking. Their faces were caked in white, bodies dappled with myriad designs and embellished here and there by touches of red or blue. Here and there among the group were riders on horseback, several of whom dragged a fresh elk carcass on a litter. But despite their ferocious appearance the mood among the band seemed light. Success made them jovial, their expressions relaxed and open, and you could see many hands moving as they joked and conversed with each other.

At the front of the band rode an ape whose height and bearing, despite his chalked face, were instantly recognizable. Caesar was magnificent in the paint, and deadly intimidating. A scarlet streak slashed down from his hairline between his eyes, with white arcs on his chest corresponding to his ribs. It took him no more than a heartbeat to spot you, and you felt almost as if you'd been caught out in your undisguised gawking.

Handling his mount with an ease born of much practice he split from the other riders, fording the shallow creek and stopping short just next to you.

Had you encountered this primordial warrior under other circumstances, you would've been terrified to tears.

“Far from village,” he rumbled.

“Yes – well, I – ” You sent out a silent thanks to the universe that the apes hadn't come across your bathing spot just a few minutes earlier. “I was washing. My clothes. I need more clothes.”

Caesar digested that. “Can take you... to camper,” he affirmed, and though you hadn't expected him to refuse, you were relieved, and nodded your gratitude anyway.

“Return with us,” he continued gravely. The last of the hunting party was trickling away in the direction of the colony. “See... how to... prepare meat.”

He was offering to let the apes teach you, you realized, and your heart jumped again, this time with enthusiasm. He reached for your bear fur, tossing it lengthwise over his horse's rump, then extended his hand again for yours.

You had only to consider the chill mist and the long walk back to accept. You took his hand, bracing to pull yourself up onto the pelt. But instead of seating you behind him he swung you up in front, as easily as if you'd weighed nothing at all, and spurred the horse into a brisk trot.

At the forward momentum you were bounced back into Caesar's chest. One muscular forearm clamped around your waist, the other controlling the reins as he held you secure. Your ass slotted indecently into the V of his powerful thighs as the horse's gait created an unavoidable and near-obscene friction.

“You eat?” Caesar's question vibrated against your back, and you shook your head. You couldn't see his reaction, but his huff sounded disapproving.

“Food stores in cave,” he chided. “Or ask Leaf.”

“I don't know how,” you reminded. He lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

“Can show you,” he said decisively after a while.

“How to sign?” You rotated in place to look up at him. He released his hold on your waist to shape his hand into a loose C, raising it by his eye.

“Caesar,” he intoned.

You copied the movement, eyes meeting through the frames of your hands. “Caesar.”

He steered his horse back towards the group, breaking into a rolling canter to catch up to the front. You clutched at the base of the horse's mane for support, but his arm came around you again, solid as an iron band.

Caesar rode up next to the young blue-eyed chimp, also on horseback, and he slowed to a walk and drew up close to get his attention.

“My son,” Caesar said in your ear, confirming what you'd suspected.

Blue Eyes looked you over with reserved curiosity, his lips parting as though he were about to attempt to speak, then thought better of it.

Caesar signed something one-handed to him, and Blue Eyes considered, then began to sign to you. You mimicked, following him through a dozen or so signs as Caesar provided each word – hungry, cold, water, where, thank you. You repeated under your breath, forcing your brain to associate the words with their correct signs.

Blue Eyes placed his thumb to his forehead, open palm upright.

“Father,” Caesar supplied, his voice warming. You turned to see him raise his own hand to his temple as if in a relaxed salute, bringing it down across his chest. “Son.”

You smiled at the obvious affection between them, but the mood was broken when Caesar's attention slipped past Blue Eyes to the scarred bonobo trotting past on horseback.

Caesar showed you a loosely curled hand to his throat, then tipped his chin toward the newcomer. “Koba.”

Koba did not acknowledge you, let alone join the impromptu lesson, merely jutted his chin in greeting to Caesar and urged his horse on. You glanced up at Caesar. If the terse retreat bothered him, it did not show.

As you rode up the track leading to the village you were greeted by a chorus of whoops and hollers, apes immediately descending on the elk. Caesar dismounted first, and as you swung your leg over to slide off he reached up for you, hands almost spanning your waist as he lowered you deftly to the ground. Face to face, the paint was even more imposing, his green-gold eyes vivid against the white.

“Thanks,” you murmured. He hadn't let you go.

Your cheeks flushed at the prolonged contact, but the apes around you were too distracted by the excitement of the successful hunt to pay your personal affairs any mind. As Caesar took a step back at last you straightened, fiddling aimlessly with your jacket zipper as he engaged in a brief signed conversation with what you guessed was a senior female.

The work of skinning and butchering the elk was beginning already and the female tugged you by your sleeve over to a work area beneath a wide domed roof. With a parting glance over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of Caesar's retreating back among the advisors who seemed ever by his side.

It didn't take long to realize you'd been assigned the most undesirable task – getting rid of the unwanted offal. The innards were slippery and steaming and you fought the urge to gag with each handful. You'd tossed aside your jacket and rolled up your sleeves, and and soon your forearms were stained pink halfway up to your elbows. But you squashed the nausea, focusing instead on trying not to breathe through your nose.

The apes chopping up the carcasses seemed rather tickled at having foisted this onto the unsuspecting human. But when you'd dumped basket after basket of guts and hooves and eyeballs in the river without complaint, Leaf finally appeared and took pity, gesturing you over to demonstrate how to prepare the freshly removed hides. With knives – some human-manufactured, others tear-shaped rocks with hammered-sharp edges – the remainders of fat and tissue were scraped away, each skin stretched tight over a rack when it was deemed clean enough.

It was an unexpected and humbling reversal of evolution, learning this way, with the soft hoots and grunts surrounding you and the scent of roasting meat wafting through the air. As you worked you slowly figured out the technique, and as your pace improved the apes nearby seemed to warm to you. Time had flown and the sun was high in the sky now, bright where it managed to sneak through the clouds. Hides were finished and set to dry, hands washed, and you were urged along with them to where others tended the cooking meat.

Spirits were high, and everyone ate with relish. Hunting day must be the exception to their lack of afternoon meal. It seemed that much of the elk would be saved for jerky, and in between mouthfuls some of the apes were already cutting it into thin strips and stringing them up to dry. You hadn't seen whether or not the meat had been seasoned in any form, but it was tender and smoky and you ate until you couldn't remember ever being so full.

You could tell the moment Caesar appeared behind you. There was a change in the countenance of the apes you sat with – not alarm, but a respectful awareness. You craned your neck up.

“Come with me,” he said, and like a marionette on strings you rose.

As you walked next to him up to his cave your pulse took on a more rapid tempo. As he entered, and approached the nest, it accelerated into overdrive.

“In the middle of the day?” you hissed, stopping short at the mouth of the cave. Unimpressed at your protest, Caesar looked back out over the courtyard. Nobody was paying the slightest attention. The paint only deepened his frown lines and though you weren't really afraid of him, there was that animal part of your hindbrain that insisted yes, oh yes, you were.

“Come,” he repeated, more forcefully.

You obeyed.

Instead of going to the nest he passed it, to the furthest corner of the cave. To your surprise there was a near-invisible gap in the wall you hadn't noticed before, partly concealed by an overhang of rock. Following him into it, you had to squint in the gloom, until a calloused hand enfolded yours and led you along the narrow passage.

For several minutes you walked, sensing with each cautious step you were going slightly uphill, until a faint rushing sound became audible. Without warning the tunnel ended and you emerged into a small, dim cave. Through a jagged hole in the ceiling poured a slim waterfall, coursing along slick black rocks for a foot or two before disappearing into the ground. You reached out into the pillar of falling water, its pressure flaking away the dried elk blood.

“Can wash here from now on,” Caesar informed you. The waterfall misted him with tiny droplets, studding his fur like gems.

Embarrassment heated your cheeks. “Did you – was I seen bathing?”

Caesar shook his head. “But cave has more... privacy.”

“Maybe that's weird to apes,” you mused aloud.

“Humans are humans,” he said with a shrug of one broad shoulder, as you rubbed water up to your elbows. “Always clothes. Always washing. No sex in day time.”

Your head snapped back to him. Even in the low light you could see the crinkle at the edges of his eyes, the wry curve to his chalked mouth.

He was flirting, you realized with a shock. Caesar was _flirting_ with you.

A not-unpleasant sensation fluttered in your belly and you ducked your head, suddenly very interested in scrubbing your hands. When you cast a glance back at him his features were arranged once more in neutrality.

As you exited the cave he captured your hand again, unprompted. It was warm and dry, and yours was all but hidden within it. You knew the gesture was only to keep you from stumbling around blind, and you decided this made it acceptable for you to appreciate it.

“How do you know how to speak?” It seemed easier to ask this personal question now, in the dark.

“Lived with humans.” His answer was detached, distant. “Before.”

“None of the others speak.”

“Only sometimes. Sign is easier.” For a time there was only the scrape of loose pebbles and the sound of footsteps – yours little thuds, his almost soundless. “Not all ape, learn speech from humans.”

You could recall bits and pieces of Golden Gate Bridge incident from the news. The footage was faded in your memory now but you could visualize the smoking bridge, apes flowing around the stopped cars like dark water, headed to the redwoods. You knew they'd escaped from a sanctuary of some kind, and others from a laboratory. People had jokingly called it “monkey-gate.” For a week or two, anyway. Until the Flu. Nobody joked about that.

Everyone here had a story, a past; aside from Blue Eyes and perhaps a couple others, all had been alive before the pandemic. Many undoubtedly had good reason to distrust humans.

“Can you show me where the waterfall resurfaces?” you asked, just for something to say.

“Not far,” he responded, as you came back out into his cave. “I cannot... take you, there are... things I must do... but can show the path.”

He released your hand, and you flexed your own unconsciously as you moved past the nest. It looked cozy, with its rumpled furs and inviting shape, and utterly innocent in the light of day.

Your lingering attention didn't fly under the radar of Caesar's notice, and you slid your gaze away in a manner you hoped was natural. Judging from his expression, you failed.

“Later,” he said, and though he tossed the word over his shoulder off-hand as he left, in his voice was a promise.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The waterfall was nice. It tumbled down the cliff wall at least four hundred feet, and you climbed down the steep, lush path to where it cascaded into a deep pool and bubbled away through the trees. The sound of the churning water was soothing.

Dinner was nice, too – more elk, with a side of roasted seeds. Several of the chimps you'd worked with today were congenial, showing you a few more signs and squealing with with uproarious laughter as you accidentally signed something comical instead. The weather was milder than it had been, a welcome but undoubtedly brief reprieve, and you were comfortable in just your sweater instead of your bulky jacket.

It was all nice.

What wasn't was the niggling in the back of your mind, the flipping of your stomach each time you remembered what awaited you when the fires were dampened and the courtyard emptied. It was not fear tightening your gut, nor disgust, but an all-consuming anticipation that vacillated between exhilaration and near-excruciating anxiety.

You waited a long time by the fire. When it was clear the apes were finished eating you busied yourself helping with clean-up, and they certainly weren't going to turn down the extra assistance. You sat by the fire a little longer until it was only embers.

You could put off the inevitable no longer.

Caesar sat on the ledge outside his cave, head bent over something in his lap. As you drew closer you recognized the shape of a spear; he wound a leather cord around one end, securing the sharp tip to the shaft. He didn't stop when he noticed you, his eyes holding yours for longer than seemed necessary, and after a stabilizing breath you continued up to sit next to him.

His shoulders shifted with each dexterous movement, the simple rotation of his wrist holding some odd fascination. He tied the cord with a neat knot and, after analyzing his work, slid it across his knees to you.

You ran a tentative finger along the edge of the spear point and at the sudden sting of pain you flinched, recoiling. A line of blood welled up on your fingertip, black in the fire-light. The laugh that burst out of you was unexpected.

“I don't know what I expected,” you said self-deprecatingly. “ I didn't think stone would be so sharp.”

He grabbed your hand without preamble – “it's nothing, it's fine,” you assured him – and examined the minuscule cut. You wouldn't have thought of your hand as anything other than average, but in his big dark palm it looked butterfly-fragile.

“It's seriously nothing,” you insisted, reclaiming your hand. Physically you weren't as tough as an ape, but you weren't completely feeble. “I'm sure you get worse injuries all the time.”

“Human weaker than ape,” he said, knowing and matter-of-fact.

“Humans and apes in general, or you and me?” As he contemplated you from the corner of narrowed eyes you shook your head, a smile pulling at your cheeks. “No, never mind... like I don't already know the answer to that.”

He slid the spear back to you and you accepted it, rolling it over your thighs. It was weighty, and just a hair too thick for your fingers to meet around.

“What's it for?” you asked. “Fishing?”

He made a sound, a fleeting huff, that might have been a laugh.

“Too big,” he said, and there was no condescension in it. He rose nimbly, swinging the spear around to rest on his shoulder. “Come, see.”

You trailed after him into the cave, to the rack of spears against the wall. He slotted his into an empty spot and reached for another, light and short with thin prongs on the end. The design was intuitive and you could immediately see how suited it was for its purpose.

“Even human can handle,” he said, pressing it into your grasp.

“Oh, I don't know,” you demurred, recalling past futile fishing attempts. He was right, it was a manageable size and weight; but you'd only ever fished with a rod and reel, and that had been less than successful.

Caesar moved behind you, his open palm running down your arm to your wrist. He maneuvered your arm into a throwing position and you giggled, self-conscious, as he demonstrated the range of motion to cast it. As he guided you his chest pressed squarely against your back, hard even through your wool sweater.

“Can try tomorrow,” he suggested. This quiet, this close, his words were no voice and all growl.

A lump had come from somewhere to lodge just behind your tongue and you cleared your throat, a sudden rush of blood coursing in your ears.

“Okay,” you said numbly. It was difficult to breathe, the air heavy like with an oncoming storm. You lowered the spear, down and free of his hold.

And then his deliberate hand slid across your chest, between collarbones and breasts. Your sweater ruffled the fur of his forearm and it tickled the side of your neck, smelling like pine sap and woodsmoke. Caesar was an all-encompassing experience: he was large in his size, in his presence, compelling you like iron filings drawn to a magnet.

Your breath was but a ragged shudder as his other hand caressed your waist, spreading over that soft indentation above your hipbone. It felt as if he was holding you entirely, that if you let your body go slack you would still remain upright.

Had you any air in your lungs it would've left you again as his long fingers delved into your waistband, brushing sensitive abdomen and pubic hair and moving past to your delicate folds. Your eyes drifted closed, head lolling back against his shoulder as he unraveled you, stroke by beautiful stroke.

This was just part of an agreement, you struggled to remind yourself. It meant no more to him that it did – should – to you...

Your cry escaped you like a freed bird and once it was out you dropped the spear with a clatter and clutched at his arm, canting your hips into his hand. You swayed on your feet, dizzy with expanding pleasure, and though he never relented he kept you rock-steady.

Your orgasm was soundless in the way extreme flame is white hot. Your body went taut, nails digging into his arm, but he didn't seem to mind. And when you went limp in his embrace – you were right, he did keep you standing – he adjusted his hold to scoop you up like a swooning bride and carry you to the nest.

He undressed you with care but his eyes burned, covetous and unequivocal. This was the first time you'd been fully nude before him. The large fire at the cave's entrance kept the air warm but you shivered nonetheless, exposed to the immense weight of his stare. Though his paint had faded throughout the day he was still fierce in a way that you suddenly found wildly, inexplicably erotic.

He flipped you on your stomach – whether from consideration for your shyness or because he was merely getting to business, you couldn't say – and dragged his hands down your back, from shoulder blades to the flare of your ass.

Instead of hauling you up onto all fours he settled on top, caging your body with his, and filled your soaked slit with ease. Sated as you were, you had no urge to climax again, but still you tamped down a whimper at the overwhelming pressure of his advance and the ready yielding of your flesh to it. The shift and rub of his fur on your bare back was indescribable, the weight of his brawny frame the most exquisite torment.

As if conscious of the sensitivity he'd caused that first night, his pace remained languid. His forearms paralleled yours and you thought it would be easy, such a simple movement, for your hands to interlock – and then he was spilling inside you, exhaling in your ear, and you squirmed up into the heady sensation of his fully seated and pulsing cock.

When he slipped out of you he did not retreat from the nest like before, but laid on his back as his breathing returned to normal, with his meditative, half-closed eyes fixed on some indeterminate point on the ceiling.

You supposed that meant it was time to sleep. But though you'd sunk into a fuzzy sort of serenity, you weren't drowsy. After pulling a fur over your naked form you tucked your arms under yourself and faced the opposite direction, inspecting the pattern of the nest's knitted branches. You reflected on whether he'd made it himself, and if it's instinctive like birds or if he had to learn how, and if he'd ever slept on an actual mattress, and if apes used pillows because you wouldn't be averse to one.

You angled your head back and peeked over your elbow at him. He hadn't moved, but nor had he fallen asleep.

“I'm not tired either,” you ventured, hoping your assumption was correct. His lips pursed.

“Then... I will show you more sign,” he concluded, shifting so his back was against the nest's low wall.

You smiled, and rolled over, ready to copy him.

 

 

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

_**When can I come home, Father?** _

_Caesar smiled in reassurance at his only child. **Is it such a banishment, to stay with Ash for a while? Humans are... different. They don't sleep all together. They're more private about certain things.**_

_**Squeamish,** Blue Eyes corrected with a scowl. _

_Caesar lifted one shoulder in acknowledgment. **She would not be comfortable with you in the nest at night.**_

_**Why is this human's comfort so important?** _

_**You know why.** _

_Blue Eyes responded with a shrug of his own. **I don't think it will work, anyway.**_

_**You listen too much to Koba.** At his father's censure Blue Eyes hunched his shoulders, picking broodily at his food. _

_**We've come so far,** Caesar continued. **We cannot lose all we've created. We need a new generation, to reach adulthood before the eldest of us pass on.**_

_On Caesar's other side, Maurice nodded his shaggy head in contemplative agreement. **She causes no trouble,** he opined. **Is she not learning our ways? Even if this endeavor fails, there will have been no harm done.**_

_**The human is not so bad,** Blue Eyes relented. Yet he did not look completely convinced. **But she is not one of us. How can you... be with her?**_

_Caesar raised a brow. **You ask personal questions, son.**_

_**That's not what I meant,** Blue Eyes signed, rapid and embarrassed. Maurice barked with laughter._

_**Do you trust that I gave given this great consideration?** _ _Caesar waited for Blue Eyes' hesitant nod._ _**Then do not worry so about it. I do this for us. For apes.** _

_It was only after Blue Eyes finished his meal and left that Maurice spoke again. **Those of us who know you well, as I do, have started to notice the way you now look at the human.** His round face was respectful, but the remark earned him a deep frown regardless._

_**I do not look at her in any 'way.'** The choppy movements of Caesar's hands were not a defense, but an irrefutable declaration. _

_**Some may not like it –** _

_**By some, do you mean Koba?** _

_Maurice's lack of reply was confirmation enough._

_**I did not see the good side of humans, as you once did,** the orangutan conceded._ _**But you know that I trust you, and your judgment regarding** **your** **human.** _

_Caesar slid him a disgruntled glance. **She's not** **my** **–**_

_**I do not think any feelings of attachment would be so wrong.** _

_Caesar didn't deign to respond any further. Maurice hadn't expected it. Having spoken his mind, he settled into peaceful silence while his leader sat, wordless and pensive, beside him._

 

* * *

 

You'd never quite adjusted to the rain. A soothing patter on a windowpane was one thing but it was another entirely to have to live in it, with only a tent or a poncho or cheap aluminum siding between you and a torrential storm and thunderclaps so close the ground shook.

The drip, drip, drip of it on your hood was maddening. It hadn't even been drizzling this morning; the clouds had loomed, as they tended to do lately, but once you'd set out the heavens had opened in a ceaseless downpour. Your jacket served as reasonable protection but below the waist you were drenched to the skin, cargo pants chafing against your goosebumps.

A two hour ride on a very bouncy horse left your inner thighs bruised and battered, and your hands were all but frozen into position around the ape mounted in front of you. At first you'd been self-conscious about holding onto Rocket, but you needed the stability. He seemed indifferent to it. Caesar's second in command was neither friendly nor unfriendly, as if this errand was mere duty to him and he had no opinion on the matter whatsoever. That suited you just fine.

Riding to your left was his son, Ash. As two of the sparse handful of adolescents, it was natural that Ash and Blue Eyes would be friends, but where Blue Eyes was more reserved Ash's demeanor was open, curious, and earnest. You'd learned that he'd been one of the apes who found you after your head injury, and thus was needed to lead you back.

For a while you were convinced you were going in circles, and it seemed Rocket suspected the same, but eventually the younger ape oriented himself to the right fork in the river and figured it out. When you spotted a flicker of white through the trees and, at last, your camper came into view, you could've almost wept with relief.

You slid down before the horse came to a full halt, pouring your last scraps of energy into not buckling in a bow-legged heap. Rocket remained stoic in the saddle but Ash leaped off, clearly intrigued by the camper. You shuffled forward and up the rusted steps, trying not to groan aloud, and as you entered you held the door open behind you in invitation.

Your hideaway was untouched, the same as you left it – musty, cluttered, cramped. Now, back among the jumble of your supplies, you found you had not missed it. Fresh clothes, yes – but the leaking roof, drafty windows, and rotting hole in the floor patched with a piece of plywood? Not so much.

After you switched into dry trousers behind the curtain partition, you located your big hiking backpack and loaded it full of essentials – socks and underwear and changes for every layer of clothing, toiletries, first aid kit, matches, pocketknife, along with assorted miscellany that might prove useful. You found your winter parka and knotted it to the pack's straps by its sleeves, put a wide-brimmed canvas hat, and selected a few old spice jars for Leaf. The cast iron pot would be well-received, but at the prospect of having to carry it on horseback the idea was nixed.

A better choice was the pistol, never used but fully loaded. You'd stolen it from an overzealous pastor and his troupe you'd fallen in (and just as quickly out) with a couple years back, and though you prayed you'd never have occasion to fire it, being caught alone without protection in this world could prove fatal.

There was a soft hoot behind you and you turned to see Ash checking out the camp stove. He ran his finger around the burner, peering into the tiny holes.

“Cooking,” you said, and made the signs for _cook_ and _food._ “It's broken.” You shrugged, and resumed your packing. “Couldn't find any more propane.”

You hesitated when you came across your ziploc of tampons. Such luxuries were rare, and you had hoarded them as jealously as a dragon with gold. You did some quick mental math, and weighed the little bag in your hand as if judging its worth. For the first time you allowed yourself to consider the possibility, however remote, however _infinitesimally_ small, that soon you might not need them.

You slammed shut that avenue of thought. Of _course_ you would need them. You stubbornly stuffed the baggie deep in your backpack under your squashed-in pillow.

You weren't sorry to turn tail on the old camper. Yes, it had been a refuge of sorts, but it was also cold, lonely, and represented a last ditch desolation you were more than ready to leave behind.

It was easy to deny the basic human need for company until you had to go without it, and you'd been unaware of just how much you'd missed being part of a community until you were once again. While you weren't prepared to say you'd been accepted by the apes, you were at least tolerated – liked by some, you hoped and believed – as well as fed, which was really the crucial thing. Expired canned goods pilfered from old cabins and park service facilities can only go so far.

Your nights were no longer cold, something to shiver and endure – the warm nest was far preferable to the camper's lumpy mattress, and you'd learned that a well-positioned fire could heat the cave without smoking it up too much – and certainly not lonely.

Though the nuances of the latter were debatable.

The return journey was quicker, since the apes knew the route now, and before long you were riding back through the gates. Rocket grunted in response to your thanks, and Ash, who had carried your bulky pack to distribute weight between the horses, shot back a bashful smile.

Aside from the impassive gorilla guard the dour weather had driven all the apes indoors, but a bold few were spurred out by your arrival, inquisitive about your bag's contents. You doled out some protein bars and a BIC lighter as distractions before escaping with your stash. It wasn't their way, to squirrel things away and not share, but you couldn't bear to waste even a fraction of limited resources like soap and toothpaste.

You hurried across the compound, and in your haste to get out of the pounding rain you slipped on the rocks, your pack throwing you off balance – you winced as you went down hard on one knee, flinging out your hands to catch yourself. Swearing, and hoping nobody saw, you righted yourself carefully and limped on up to the cave.

You hefted your bag down with a thud and stretched. Caesar was absent, and the fire in the pit had burned down to orange embers. Despite the wet outside you were parched, having long ago drained your gourd – it was quicker to refill it at the communal water catchment but that would entail going across the compound in the rain again, so you took it through the passage to the little hidden waterfall.

On your return you thought you heard noises in the main cave, and as you stoppered your now-full gourd you forced yourself to keep to your pace and not rush to greet him. That would be stupid. There was no reason you needed to see him so badly, and besides, your knee was beginning to ache. Take it easy.

But as you re-entered you froze – it was not Caesar, but Koba. You stared at the bonobo in confusion and prickling alarm. His body language was predatory as he slunk into the cave, sniffing and casting his gaze around. He nudged your backpack with his knuckle, pawing at the winter coat with interest. Did Caesar know he was here?

A pebble scratched under your boot and Koba's head flew up, teeth flashing in a snarl. Your heart was a jack-hammer as your eyes met. So far he'd hovered somewhere between brusque and belligerent with you – when he wasn't ignoring your existence entirely – but the unchecked aggression in his stance was new and unnerving.

Your signing was still rudimentary, but you were a tactile learner and it came more easily to you than you would've expected. So when you signed _Where Caesar?_ you knew he understood.

And yet he did not react. There was undiluted disdain in the jut of his jaw and you felt yourself sized up, measured, and found wanting. Blood rushed in your ears, louder than the rain. For one awful sinking moment you thought he was readying to charge you; but in an instant he smirked and retreated, shooting you a final glare as he loped away.

Once you were sure he was gone you slumped against the wall. What had the ape been doing? What did he want? If Caesar had sent him for some reason, why did he take off when your presence was made known?

You could've just written it off as curiosity about your loot if not for the unconcealed hostility in his scarred visage.

You kept watch on the cave's wide entrance as you skirted past the nest to your backpack. Raindrops scattered as you shed your jacket and shook it out, hanging it by its hood on an empty fish rack and adding your winter coat next to it. At the scuff of bare feet on the floor you swallowed hard, bracing yourself to turn and confront him –

But you heard your name, and recognized that gravel-edged voice, and the tension in your posture vanished.

“Caesar.”

The lines of his face were streaked with rain and his fur was wet and fluffy, making him appear bigger than normal. And softer. In both fists were bundles of whip-thin dogbane branches, used to make twine, and he dropped them by the fire pit.

“Get things you needed?”

“Yes,” you responded, kneeling by your bag. “Thank you for arranging for me to go.”

You wanted to mention Koba's intrusion but feared it would come across as tattling, or accusing. Maybe his behavior was normal. He was one of Caesar's closest friends. Yet nobody else ever waltzed into Caesar's home quite like that.

“I think Koba was looking for you,” you wound up saying, maintaining a casual air as you glanced up. “He was just here.”

There was a subtle crease between Caesar's brows, a thoughtful downward tug at the corner of his mouth. But it vanished in an instant. Maybe you'd imagined it, looking for something that wasn't there.

“I don't think he likes me very much,” you joked. Caesar's lips curved up the other way, perfunctory and cryptic. But, ever an enigma, he didn't elaborate.

As you continued unpacking his eyes tracked you, sharp with interest in what you'd brought. He stoked up the fire again and set to work on stripping the branches as you fluffed your pillow and laid your wrinkled clothes flat to dry. The basket Leaf showed you how to make was lopsided and holey but perfect for your toiletries, which you tucked out of sight behind the nest.

When you retrieved a much-abused Mount Tamalpais State Park brochure from the the outside pocket of your pack you brought it over to Caesar, folding it to show the faded green of the map as you sat down cross-legged.

“Do you know where we are?” The information was basic, designed for casual hikers and featuring no detailed topography, and it offered little help in determining where you now were.

His fingers were large and dark next to yours as they ghosted over the map. He placed his index finger near a ranger station, pausing before dragging it up near one of the peaks.

“Close,” he pronounced. You were deeper in the state park than you thought. Your camper had been in a valley, and on the ride back you'd seen for yourself just how much elevation you gained to reach the colony, so it wasn't surprising that you and the apes had missed each other all this time.

Involuntary goosebumps rippled over you and tugged your sweater cuffs over your hands. It didn't go unobserved.

“Cold?”

“Always,” you chuckled ruefully. You began to pick apart the wet knots of your bootlaces, toeing them off and peeling away the sodden socks.

“I'm going to change,” you said, leaving him with the map as you stood. There had been some leggings and a fleece pullover at the bottom of your pack that were mostly unscathed by the rain. You stretched open the boots to facilitate drying, and put them by the fire pit to take advantage of its heat.

“Don't look,” admonished as you passed Caesar again, and felt embarrassed for having said it. His expression, while not unkind, told you he shared the sentiment. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen it all already. Nudity was probably your default state to him, given that the majority of the attention he paid you was when you had not a stitch on.

But that was different, you decided as you shed your damp clothing layer by layer. That was for a specific period of time, for a purpose, and you always dressed – or at least covered yourself – after. There was not the prolonged intimacy, the embracing, a lover's exploring of bodies.

There was even a routine to it, now: when night fell the ape king would touch you, work you up until you came (if you permitted yourself, it depended on your willpower to resist, it still felt inexplicably reckless to enjoy it) then put you on your belly and fill you with his seed. You supposed it was the most efficient method. You were never denied your pleasure but it had begun to feel... clinical. Not that you had complaints, exactly, but there was that lingering want, a missing element you couldn't pin down and tried not to dwell on.

Your knee was bleeding from the slip on the rocks, you realized. Your pants were so soaked with rain you hadn't noticed until now.

“Ow, ow,” you exclaimed as you tore the fabric away from the congealing scrape.

“Alright?”

“Ugh, yeah, I just – it's fine.” In only bra and panties you crept sideways to where your backpack lay, staying out of Caesar's line of sight. But the sound of the zipper made him turn.

“Didn't I say not to look?” you muttered at the same time he said, “Lot of blood.”

“It looks worse than it is,” you assured him. The blood leaking down your shin was only sluggish. “I have a first aid kit.”

You could see him debating whether or not to come over to you. Maybe it was your wince when you sat on a rock ledge that convinced him because he rose and crossed the cave, tucking the map in your pack before crouching before you. He was very close as he examined the scrape, his breath light on your exposed leg as his hand skimmed your calf.

“See, not too bad,” you said, and your verdict came out a little high. He grunted in agreement and released you, watching with forearms resting on his knees as you rummaged around for a gauze bandage and the half-empty tube of antibiotic ointment.

“Always hurting yourself,” Caesar observed. “Clumsy.”

You glanced up, ready with a rebuttal; but his features were not judgmental, instead wreathed in the mildest amusement. The effect was very subtle, near imperceptible. But his stern brow had smoothed a fraction, his green-gold eyes touched by that gleam you'd once found inscrutable and unsettling, but now recognized as a smile that had just gotten lost on the way to his mouth. It changed his demeanor entirely and for a suspended moment you were captivated by the altered planes of his face.

“Just bad luck,” you insisted, shaking your head self-deprecatingly. Several strands of hair slipped over your temple and before you could blow them away Caesar extended one hand, pushing them aside and tucking them neatly behind your ear.

“Oh... thanks.” Still his hand lingered, and though he no longer touched you, his fingers unfurled to align in shape to the curve of your jaw. Every cell in your body stretched taut, muscle fibers yearning to close that mere fragment of a gap and fit your cheek into his palm.

But his eyes shuttered then, and he dropped his arm as he stood upright. You busied yourself with the bandage as he returned to his work.

And there it was: that hollow pang, at some unfixed point behind your sternum, that had begun to resonate with more and more frequency. You'd assured yourself this was an understandable reaction to having spent six months in solitude. Of course you would seek out friendship.

Nothing unexpected at all.

“Can you show me how to do that?” you asked, once you were patched up and clothed. Caesar nodded his assent and you resumed your spot next to him, facing out as he did to take advantage of the gloomy gray light. He demonstrated how to split the plant stalks and tenderize the inner fibers between thumb and forefinger, then twisting and wrapping these fine segments into a thin, tough length of rope.

The pelting rain was endless, the individual drops blurring into a rush of white noise. The earlier misery it caused you was forgotten and now it invoked an unusual blend of invigoration and serenity. You were alert to your environment – the rain's crisp smell, the branches rustling in your hands, the sheen of the rocks at the mouth of the cave – but at ease within it, soothed by the surroundings had slowly become safe and familiar to you.

You worked side by side without speaking, with sporadic peeks over at him when you forgot a step. The silence seemed natural, companionable, both of you absorbed in the shared task. This was, you reflected, the most time you'd spent together outside of sex. More often than not, you didn't see or speak to Caesar until nightfall. You reminded yourself this was completely fair, as his duties and responsibilities were numerous.

Besides, there was always something you could find to do. He'd encouraged Ash and Blue Eyes to take you fishing, and though your first efforts had been mortifying, after multiple trips you finally caught a trout. With no one else around you'd let out a jubilant whoop like an ape. In addition to teaching you how to make baskets, an art you were far from mastering, Leaf showed a remarkable amount of patience for your multitude of questions and requests for signing lessons.

It only made sense that your encounters throughout the day would be infrequent.

After all, it's not as if you were... together.

“It's tricky,” you admitted, contorting your hands hopelessly.

“Only looks easy,” he confirmed. “Practice.”

“Oh – dammit, I broke it again.”

You stole glances not just at his twine-making method but the contours of his profile, the texture of his fur's ruffled outer guard hairs, his lashes contrasted against his light features. His lips compressed as he focused, the delicate threads of wood fiber handled deftly even in his large grip.

He caught your attention on him and angled a narrowed look your way, and you tried to tamp down your shy grin and train your efforts instead on twisting together your strands. Your section was sloppy, and now it was your turn to catch him evaluating it.

“Much practice,” he reaffirmed, and you exhaled sharply with laughter.

 

* * *

 

You lay on your stomach, gripping the furs beneath you and wishing it was Caesar's. In the inebriation of your pleasure you couldn't cast out the unbidden fantasy. You bit back a moan as his skilled hand between your legs made you writhe, as always. But though his stare had been hot with desire as you'd undressed and settled down, prone, in the nest, still he didn't touch you more than was necessary. An intuitive, primal part of you sensed he was holding back.

He couldn't look at you the way he did and not be.

You wanted to see him, feel him, for his strong arms to enfold you. You wanted his mouth on you again. He hadn't done that since the first night. The same part of you that sensed his restraint had also hoped that after the afternoon together, you cringing and laughing in dismay over your rope and him offering the occasional gruff pointer, that tonight might be... different.

You hid your face in the crook of your arm, beating down both the girlish delusions and your rising physical gratification. Why _should_ it be different? You were here to be bred, no more and no less. He aroused you to make intercourse easier, and he'd spent the day with you because the weather was too disgusting to get anything else done –

“Why... do you do that?”

You were startled out of your warring pleasure and pragmatism. “Do what?”

“Fight it.”

He knew what you were doing. And he knew you in turn understood what he meant, and even though it was exactly relevant you couldn't have this conversation _now._

“Why do you always fuck me from behind?” you retorted, crude on purpose.

There was no prompt response, and when he spoke again it was into the shell of your ear. “You don't like it?”

“I – I don't care either way.”

“Your body tells me... differently.” You'd grown accustomed to his direct manner but this was a new level of blunt, dishing back what you'd served. Your exhalation was ragged and barely controlled.

Adrenaline raced through each nerve ending as he scooped you up into his lap, your legs parting on either side of his muscular thighs. The sensation of his fur on your heated mound was stunning, and your moan was one of both rapture and revelation.

His expression was unfathomable, his voice the barest rumble. “You want it like this?”

The fire in his eyes made your blood sing; his question had been less a genuine inquiry, more a statement. No - a challenge. You almost panted as you nodded your assent.

As he pulled you in closer your breasts were crushed against his broad chest, his cock trapped between his abdomen and yours. The evolved apes had appropriately evolved genitalia, but it remained concealed in the fur until erect and until now you'd never gotten a really good look. It was much like that of a human male, but far thicker, weighty and veined and a few shades lighter than his fur. As he shifted beneath you the silky shaft aligned with your entrance and you gasped, canting forward to slide over him. His impatient hips twitched but he held himself still, lips parted and expression feral, holding you steady as he let you rock into him.

Your breath came in shallow, helpless pants now, your fingers carding feverishly through the dense fur on his shoulders. His big hands glided down your back to cup your ass, positioning you with ease as he guided you down onto his cock. You whined as he sheathed himself inside you, reaching and filling you to the hilt. You felt somehow choked as he hit rock bottom, as if he'd invaded you so completely there was no room left in your body even for a necessity like air.

As he began to roll his hips his hands moved you in tandem, matching the rhythm of his thrusts and you locked your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. You were overwhelmed by his unique scent, the callouses in his palms, his fur brushing your slick folds and the powerful muscles flexing under you. His mouth skimmed your pounding jugular, his breathing fast and warm over the tender skin and paired for just a fleeting moment with the hard graze of his canines.

The assault on your senses was too much and you went rigid, crying out into his shoulder as you climaxed, your inner walls pulsing around his cock and triggering his own release. He ground you down onto him with near-painful force, his groan vibrating through you as he pumped you with every last drop.

You were rendered boneless, a nebulous being, your world condensing to nothing but the rise and fall of his chest. Your arms now draped over his back, stiff from having gripped him so tightly. After a time his breathing returned to normal, and hold on you began to loosen. 

Through the haze, you were aware of what must come next. Now and then, he would stay and talk – he'd wanted every detail about how humanity fared after its essential collapse, and some nights you felt like Scheherazade answering the endless stream of his inquiries – but usually he left, without more than a word or two.

You had tried to bring yourself to say, it's your turn... tell me everything. But given his taciturn nature any combination of words felt too familiar, too nosy, and night after night they stuck in your throat.

So you burrowed into his neck once more, inhaling the tousled fur like an addict. It was futile to deny it any longer, impossible to blame it on endorphins or mere carnal delights: though the seasons may have spiraled into winter, feelings for Caesar were blossoming in the depths of your lonely heart like a spring bud breaking from the cold and barren earth.

He could never know, you swore then and there, with his heart beating against yours. It would be a humiliation of the highest caliber. He may enjoy your body, and show you kindness at times, but by and large he kept his soul to himself.

As was his right. _Feelings_ weren't part of this agreement.

As if by unspoken mutual agreement you began to disentangle yourselves. You snuggled down into the pelts on your back, the way he preferred you to do after sex, but your skin was starting to chill now and you reached behind you for your pullover, tossed somewhere over the edge of the nest.

But Caesar was looking at you oddly, and uncertainty stayed your hand. It was the intense but disconcerted stare of someone whose vision is adjusting to a dim room, and is only just now able to make out what's before him. The expression transformed his features, but before you could interpret it further he turned his head and was cast into shadow.

And still it rained, the relentless patter blending with the jaunty crackling of the fire.

 

* * *

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

 

_The human was cold._

_She was always cold._

_Even when bundled in the coat she moved with purpose to the communal water catchment, refilling her gourd quickly so she could return to the warmth and safety of the cave._

_**Humans are so frail they can barely survive without their houses and their comforts.** From the overhang of his hut, Koba's one-eyed stare radiated indignation. **Why does Caesar not tire of her?** **How long will you be kept from your home, Blue Eyes?**_

_Blue Eyes blinked back, discomfited, and became very interested in a tuft of dried grass on the ground._

_On Koba's other side, Grey snorted with disapproval. **As the months pass and she does not fall pregnant, he will see her uselessness and cut her loose.** _

_**She is an insult to ape females,** Koba snorted. **To all of us.**_

_**You spend much time complaining about the human,** Stone pointed out. Though Koba bristled, Stone spread placating his hands. **It's not as if she causes Caesar to neglect his duties. If he can't breed her, he can't breed her... so what if she hangs around for a while?**_

_**Her presence is a danger. What if she leads other humans to us?** _

_**But she was alone,** Blue Eyes piped up at last._

_**Humans lie. Humans deceive. What if more come, and they find out we have her? Do you think they will be pleased we have taken one of their females?** _ _Koba's volley of signs finally ceased, and he_ _, and he shot one last glower out into the courtyard before turning away._

_**Do not let yourself be fooled by her size and friendly face,** _ _he warned. **That is all I will say.**_

_Stone and Grey glanced at each other as if to silently say, unlikely._

 

* * *

 

Caesar liked to sleep on his stomach. His hand was curled by his face, a gesture that struck you as profoundly innocent on such an imposing individual.

Those stern features were softened now by sleep, darkened only by midnight, his brow relaxed and lips slightly parted.

With one stealthy fingertip you traced patterns in the fur on his bicep. Against the grain, with the grain; whorls and spirals and figure eights. It was thicker now, in the utter dead of winter. Though tasks still needed completing, by and large the apes kept close to their own home fires, and now you were not the only one walking around swathed in a pelt.

His eyes fluttered open to squint half-shut at you, lashes obscuring the distinctive green. You retracted your hand immediately.

“Just jealous of your fur,” you whispered, light-hearted, to explain away your adoring touch. “Brrr.”

He rolled inelegantly onto his side. “Have mine,” he mumbled, and drew you into his arms.

You were sure he only showed such an intimacy because he wasn't fully awake. But nonetheless he held you, his breathing sinking down again into the slow, steady rhythm of slumber. His arm over your waist was a heavy security, his chest warm and solid, and as you curled into him your hearts together were silent drums in the night.

 

* * *

 

The ever-frequent fog was now almost ubiquitous, blanketing the valleys below so that the mountain seemed to be a floating island, existing separate from the outside world. Days had rolled seamlessly into weeks; it must be December by now. You couldn't be sure. Old methods of time didn't seem to matter anymore.

Watery beams of sunlight glimmered through the tree branches, casting a lattice of shadows on the forest floor. Over your shoulder was a deer-hide sack, bay nuts clacking as they rolled around inside. You kept your eyes peeled at the base of the trees as you walked and did a double-take at a patch of mushrooms, waxy caps like red bells peeping out of the detritus.

“Hey,” you called softly. Leaf lifted her head, pausing in her work of stripping an elderberry bush.

 _Good to eat?_ Your signing was unpolished but careful as you indicated the mushrooms with the toe of your boot. After your prior experiences, you were more than cautious. Leaf gave them a cursory glance and hooted in affirmation, popping one berry in her own bag and a whole handful in her mouth.

You swung your bag around and knelt on the damp earth, brushing aside fallen pine needles to pluck the mushrooms out by the stalk.

As you walked out of the trees and back through the gates together the early sun remained curtained with cottony gray clouds. Yet still you turned your face up to it, willing yourself to absorb the meager warmth it offered.

Caesar had been awake but occupied when you'd left this morning and he sat now with his usual council, the fire releasing a thin column of smoke. You crouched beside him to show him what you'd brought, and he grunted in approval. After the bag was passed around and made its way back to you, empty, he touched your elbow before you could rise.

 _Sit,_ he signed, inclining his head to the spot between him and Rocket.

You'd never eaten at his fire before. Only with Leaf, and her usual circle. You enjoyed the company, but you hadn't liked the feeling of... otherness. As if you weren't good enough to eat at what amounted to the royal court.

You gladly sank cross-legged next to him, your knee brushing his. Maurice emitted a little hum of welcome in his throat, but the rest showed minimal reaction, and you were grateful for the lack of fanfare.

Koba, of course, was the exception. He stared in blatant disgust, chewing with more force than was necessary. Perhaps you understood now why you ate with the females. You didn't trust Koba, didn't like him, but you didn't want to cause problems. And you had no interest in putting yourself in the crosshairs of his hostility.

Caesar offered you his bowl of dried fruit, and as you chose an apple ring and picked at it you became aware of a subtle but many-pointed stare-down occurring. While Koba glared at you, Caesar stared back at him. There was no dramatic alteration to his posture, no hackles raised, but he had become profoundly, unnervingly still.

As the others continued eating their attention flicked back and forth between the two apes, keen to witness how this would play out. Maurice and Rocket were attentive; Ash seemed mildly interested, but more so in the mushrooms. Blue Eyes' shoulders were hunched, breathing rapid, his forehead creasing in distress.

In Caesar's eyes was an unyielding warning that Koba was either too busy shooting daggers your way to notice, or chose to ignore. Caesar's bearing was not showy in its aggression but it brooked no argument, all but daring Koba to say something. Rocket made a stifled noise of anticipation.

At last Koba rose in a huff, snatching up his bowl and retreating to sit with a pair of chimpanzees, Grey and Stone, with his back resolutely to the group. With his departure the tension dissipated but did not fizzle completely. There was a swell of embarrassment for having caused it... but you couldn't deny the coexistent primal crest of pleasure at Caesar's silent but uncompromising defense of you.

He released a heavy breath, returning to his food, and though you could still sense his lingering displeasure the rest of the apes were set at ease. Though his demeanor was calmer, his brow was still low and taut, and nothing else was said for the duration of the meal.

 

* * *

 

“It... frustrates me that Koba will not let this rest.”

A frigid wind had picked up, sending all but a hardy few high-tailing it to their homes. Caesar stood staring out of the cave, focusing hawk-like on nothing in particular. He signed as he spoke, each movement of his hand an explosion in miniature. Generally he did not discuss the colony's interpersonal workings with you and you stood quiet, listening and watching his jaw work and his hands dance.

“If he doesn't accept you... he doesn't accept my decision. My... authority.”

He rounded on you with a force that was almost alarming. He ran possessive hands over your shoulders and down your upper arms, not really grasping, just the barest sketch over your jacket's sleeves. His blood was up now, his temper evident in his eyes and demeanor and translating into arousal. It was a separate, near-tangible energy, sparking off his skin and igniting yours.

His hands settled fully on you then, and his forehead dipped forward to press yours. He had never done this before and your eyes naturally drifted shut so you could no longer see, only feel; only _be_. The intimacy of your shared breath was almost meditative, the mutual tension draining away with each steadying in and out, in and out.

“Forgive me my anger,” he sighed, sliding his hand to the back of your neck. “The fault... is not yours.”

His touch grew more purposeful, assertive; and though your instinct was to sway into his rising passion you stopped yourself with a hand to his chest, eyes flicking open again.

“I can't.”

His features furrowed, and you continued, “I'm not feeling well.”

“Sick?”

“No, just under the weather.” He seemed to remember this phrase. He considered you for a long moment, eyes flicking down to your abdomen. For a brief second you thought you spotted a flare of hope in those green depths.

“It's not that,” you blurted, before he could get any ideas. “I'm not – it's the _opposite,_ in fact.”

You could see the gears turning in his head, and just when you thought you'd have to be more frank, at last he dropped his arms to his side with a curt nod.

Getting your period had been wholly expected to you. It was very late, but that hadn't worried you – it had become common, with how so close you'd strayed into malnutrition. Though you weren't squeamish about menstruation, you were grateful he got the point without needing it spelled out for him. You couldn't bring yourself to have to give him a lesson on human reproductive cycles. Perhaps it was the same for apes, anyway.

Caesar wandered out again to sit on the ledge of the cave, gazing out past the courtyard into the forest beyond. It occurred to you now that he must be disappointed. Having never expected a pregnancy to succeed, you felt little about the lack of it, but you also felt compassion for him. His love for his people and their future had colored his perspective, to the point that it had overruled his judgment and turned him to this impossible avenue.

Whatever his thoughts, you left him to them, and curled up in the nest with a paperback. The pages were rippled with water damage and it was a crime thriller, not really your thing, but beggars can't be choosers.

After slogging through two chapters the scrape of something heavy on the floor caught your attention and you sat up, peering over the edge of the nest.

“Oh, no way. You're kidding.”

Caesar had clunked down a stump in the middle of the cave, and on its flat top was the unmistakable pattern of a carved chess board. You dog-eared your book and clambered out of the nest, and as you approached he offered you a basket of rough-hewn pieces.

“You made all this, Caesar?” You caressed a pawn, imprecise in design but worn pleasantly smooth from use. The pieces were larger than standard, black and white whittled respectively from dark and light wood. “Who do you play with?”

“Only Maurice,” he said. “Until now.” He angled a sly look at you.

“Oh, no,” you laughed. “I know when I'm outclassed. That's it, humans really are going extinct.”

“Human can't win human game?” His query was thoughtful, and you recognized it for the challenge it was.

“Make it checkers and we're on.”

He considered that, nodded, and as you settled on either side of the stump you divvied up the pieces – him white, you black – and set them up for checkers. The play went fast at first, each piece scooting out from safety into the center of the board, then slower as the moves began to require strategy. You thought you'd sneaked into prime position but on his next turn he double jumped you, stealing two pieces in one go.

“I guess I was better at this as a kid.” The thought sobered you. A memory replayed: the click of round markers in your hand, the clear packing tape that held the red and black board together, broken by a child's exuberance. “My dad taught me.

“Mine also.”

“Your... father?”

More or less, Caesar's shrug said. “Man who cared for me.” His tone was distant, but held a tinge of fondness. As if anticipating your unspoken slew of questions, he continued unsolicited. “I was... born in a lab. He brought me home. Raised me, like... a child. Then...”

“The bridge?” you supplied, when it was clear he had trailed off and was not just searching for the next word.

“Before that, I was taken away. To a... sanctuary for apes. A bad place. But the drug... we escaped. Then came the bridge.”

His face told you that though recalling the past dredged up conflicted emotions, he was at peace with it now. You wondered what his memories of those early days were compared to yours. In his desire for information you'd told him so much of your own experiences – the sunny normalcy of childhood, then the creeping fear as you figured out things were not alright, despite your parents' attempts to keep it from you. They'd succumbed to the Flu early on. It seemed so long ago, their deaths; you remembered the ache of your grief, but no longer felt it.

You'd shared all this with him, and now this was the first time he'd offered something of his own life in return.

“Was it difficult?” you probed. “Learning to live out here?”

“At first, yes. Had to steal food. Easy now. We figured out how to hunt, to gather. How to build. No humans to... interfere.”

“Do you think the world's better?” Your question was rhetorical, but as he shifted a piece his features were unreadable, lips compressing.

“Better for – for you,” you clarified. “For apes?”

He scanned you, as if determining if you were issuing an accusation. But he must have detected only sincerity.

“Apes are free now,” he said simply.

“Yes. You are.” This hidden place was not a utopia – apes still bickered, food sometimes spoiled, roofs leaked and fish were not always running. But they were a cohesive unit. A family. Even if you were only on the periphery, it was the closest you'd come in a long while.

Caesar's first piece, a knight, made it to your side of the board. In regular checkers he would've put another identical marker on top to crown it, and signify that, unlike the other pieces, it could move freely about the board.

“Once... a piece like any other,” he said, rolling the horse-head between his fingers. His hooded eyes flicked up to yours. “Now it can do what it likes. Now... it is a king.”

He gave no quarter and continued to decimate your valiant efforts, amassing a tidy pile of your pieces on his side of the board.

“A king who takes everything,” you protested, as he positioned himself to wipe your last lonely piece off the board.

“Sometimes,” he said. He seemed ready to expound... but he didn't, and instead handily won the game.

“Wow, I appreciate the humiliation,” you teased. “You wouldn't stand a chance against me with an Uno deck, though.”

He raised one skeptical brow.

“Yes, really,” you insisted. “I'd wipe you off the map.”

“Little... but... fierce,” he stated, and it sounded as if he was quoting something from an long buried recollection. His grew thoughtful. “More so now, than... when you came.”

You had to think about that. “Maybe,” was all you said, running a fingernail along the long groove of the board's edge. When it came to fight, flight, or freeze instincts, yours tended to lean towards the latter two. Your arrival here had been under a cloud of injury, confusion, a healthy dose of fear, not to mention a culture shock on the grandest possible scale. Of course it was easier to speak your mind now that that shadow had lifted.

You said as much to Caesar, who pondered that as he began setting up the board again, this time for chess.

“Were you... afraid of me?”

“You know I was.”

He paused over the white king, fingering the tiny cross on top. “Still?”

You didn't answer right away. You couldn't remember the exact order of the pieces so you copied him as you put yours into place.

“I'm not sure.” Pawns in front, everything else in back. “I don't think you would hurt me, if that's what you're asking.”

“I hope you would... know, not just think.” His eyes held yours. With such unbridled, intense candor in his stare, you couldn't not trust him.

And you couldn't not be honest.

“I'm not _scared_ of you. You just... intimidate me. Sometimes.” You focused on the board, self-conscious about your admission. Pawns can advance two spaces on their first turn, you recalled that much. Knights move in a funny L shape. “You know icebergs? They're massive, but only a small part shows. You don't know exactly what's underneath the water. Ships can run aground on the hidden parts if they get too close.”

White always goes first. Caesar sent out one of his middle pawns.

“I do not... mean to be... an iceberg,” he murmured; a little amused, a little contrite.

“You have to tell me what they all do before we play.” You waved expansively at the board. “I know knights and pawns.”

He demonstrated each piece's movement patterns and you tried to commit them to memory, castle and bishop and king. Lastly you tapped your queen. “And this?”

“The queen. Very powerful.”

“What does she do?”

The edges of his eyes crinkled a bit as he traced his own queen's bluntly chiseled crown. “Almost whatever she wants.”

 

* * *

 

It had been a long week.

At all times you were aware Caesar's attention on you. Sometimes heavy with lust, denied the physical release he'd grown accustomed to; often thoughtful, even unsettled, as if you represented a puzzle box that he could not master. It was not uncomfortable, but you felt the weight of the thoughts he did not speak aloud. You played chess again, maybe even improving a smidge. You told him not to let you win, and he was happy to heed your command.

One afternoon you joined Lake, one of the close-knit gang of adolescents, as she traversed the forest setting rabbit snares with loops of twine.

 _Too big,_ she signed at your first attempt at your own. She had kind eyes and strings of beads clacking around her face. _That will catch it by the body, or legs. Like this, instead._

She showed you the correct size, attaching the loop to two sticks and arranging it near a low bush, then signed something you didn't recognize. You copied the motion, unsure, and the scrunch of your nose must have indicated your confusion.

 _Less pain for the rabbit,_ she explained. _Quick death._

Humane must have been the word she used. You were touched and warmed by this sensitivity. It shouldn't surprise you anymore, yet you were ever reminded of the apes' humanity. And yet could it still be called humanity, since humans clearly no longer had a monopoly on morality?

 _When you get enough, you can make a blanket,_ she said, after you'd set about a dozen snares. _Mine are not so good yet, but Leaf's are the best._

 _Leaf best at everything._ Though your signing was ponderous, you got your message across, and were rewarded with a guffaw of laughter.

You used up all the twine and headed back side by side, but before you even reached the gates you heard the cries. Alarm prickled your fine hairs; Lake took off at a brisk lope and you followed with long strides.

In the entrance of a hut sat a couple; the male hunkered down with head bowed, the female emitting muffled howls of anguish. Other apes had been drawn by the sound, gathering in concern and signing among themselves.

 _What has happened?_ Lake signed to another female, Rain. The response she gave was unknown to you.

 _Baby belly death_ , Lake translated, her shoulders drooping.

A miscarriage. Caesar had told you that even in the rare event of a pregnancy, it ended not long after it began.

Though you didn't know the afflicted female aside from vague recognition, a lump formed in your throat. She hadn't even been showing. Among humans this would have been a deeply private affair – but while the apes didn't swarm her they didn't avoid her open display of grief, either, creeping up to touch her arm or face as if their hands imparted their sympathy, their love.

From the ledge of his cave, Caesar took in the scene. His face was drawn, mouth bracketed in lines of resignation. Though it wasn't his mate or child, he suffered the loss, as did the whole colony. It was a shared sorrow, a blow not just for this one couple but for the apes as a collective.

You may not be part of that collective but empathy propelled you forward, past your shyness, to trail in Lake's wake as she approached the hut.

 _Sorry,_ was all you knew how to sign. _Sad._ In her haze the female did not respond; you did not expect it. But you couldn't ignore a fellow being in such abject misery.

As ever you stood out among the apes, and it was easy for Caesar's gaze to find yours. Could he read the sorrow in your face across this distance? You thought of going to him; then thought better.

The infertility was not your responsibility, but you didn't want to be a reminder, either.

 

* * *

 

“Come with me,” Caesar said after sundown. It was your immediate reflex to ask where, but something in his manner stayed your tongue. With no reservation you put on your coat again and followed him out into the darkness.

Crickets scratched out their nighttime song, the crescent moon veiled by gossamer clouds. The woods he led you through behind the village were dense, and though you struggled to see, his hand was a steady guidance over the uneven terrain. Up you climbed, farther and farther, over gnarled roots and sunken hollows. It seemed as though you would walk forever, right up into the stars... and then, as if called into existence by your imagination, faint lights appeared ahead, blinking and popping through the shadowed tree trunks. Just as you squinted in earnest the forest opened into a small clearing. You stopped dead.

“Fireflies,” you breathed. Over the open patch of ground a hundred tiny pinpricks flashed in and out, like yellow-green glitter scattered across the velvet night. “I've never seen them here!”

“Only... in this spot.” Caesar gestured to indicate the marshy ground, shallow puddles reflecting the vibrant dots of light. “There is a... spring, a hot spring. It wells up, heats the air. So they come.” From your peripheral vision you could see him looking at you. “They need... the right conditions to shine.”

He was right, the air was a shade warmer here, and muggy with rising steam. You lowered yourself onto a fallen log, resting your chin on your hands. It was impossible not to be soothed by the magical display, accompanied by the soft chirp of fellow nighttime insects in the surrounding brush. If the apes' mountain existed in another dimension from the world below, this was its chapel, hushed and sacred.

“Trying to breed with a human was... misguided.” Caesar's blunt segue into the topic jerked you from your dreamy mood. He stood at the opposite end of the log like a sentinel, electing not to join you. His eyes tracked the fireflies, as if one might provide him wisdom. “The idea did not... originate with me, but I was taken by it. It is hard for me, to accept what I cannot change.”

With the practice of speaking with you his speech had much improved, but the increase in his cadence and his diversified vocabulary hardly registered now.

“It's only been, what, a month and a half?” you prompted casually. Before you a bold firefly wheeled, so close you could hear the buzz of its wings. “It can take time.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “But we both know it was always... unlikely. I can no longer hold you to... to this...” Unable to find the right word, he gestured between you.

You didn't know a suitable word, either.

You'd felt at peace with the apes, imbued with a sense of contentment and well-being you couldn't recall the last time you experienced. You'd learned how to better take care of yourself, how to use what the land offered, and formed connections and friendships you never would have dreamed possible. But it felt now that a steel door was about to slam closed and cut you off. It would be far from the first time you'd had to split from a group. Another fleeting and failed affiliation to add to your list.

“You're upset,” he noted, clipped and tight.

“I know I was just meant to be your incubator, but I do have feelings.” You tried to keep your voice level, but once you began your words were like water from a faucet, full-pressure. “Do you think I can just go off again as if I've never spent any time here, as if I haven't been changed, as if I haven't... haven't met you? Maybe it's weak of me but I'm not made to be a – a wanderer, drifting alone and self-sufficient through the world.”

Caesar seemed taken aback. “I said... nothing about leaving.” The repetition of crickets filled the silence, their unvarying rhythm marking the seconds ticking away. “Do you... want to?”

You dug your heel into a clump of moss, working at it until it came free, leaving a divot behind. “Wouldn't it be for the best?”

“Stay here,” he rebutted gruffly. “Make your own home.”

“Set up shop in a little hut, and live below you as if you were never anything to me?” No more dancing around the subject. No more allusions. “How could I stay and become nothing to _you?”_

Caesar was getting agitated. The fur on his shoulders was rising, his eyes focused and fever-bright. His chest rose and fell, fingers curling and clenching. Oblivious to the unfolding drama the fireflies floated, twinkling mindless and merry. To be a pretty thing like that, moving blithely through existence without a care.

You hadn't imagined the way he looked at you, how he touched you; but you naively allowed yourself to think it meant something, and now you were paying the price.

“You know, I'm sorry, Caesar.” The words were empty, and strained. “You brought me here to show me something beautiful and it is, it is beautiful.”

The golden lights blurred, and you rested your temple on your fist to obscure your tears. You gnawed your tongue, to try to ground yourself with pain. You should've known this whole business would sour. It was lunacy from the start; a dangerous liaison. The years had endowed you with a healthy suspicion, necessary for survival, but deep down your natural self was trusting; too trusting. Too ready to open up.

The log creaked as Caesar sat next to you, connecting from hip to thigh and pushing your camouflaging hand aside.

“Don't,” you muttered, rejecting his pit. He ignored you.

Just as he had on that second night, he brushed away your tears – but the contact had been brief then, the flicker of empathy swiftly withdrawn and concealed. Now his big palms framed your face completely, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he tilted your face up to him. His gaze searched yours, tender and concerned and, perhaps for the first time, vulnerable. No guard up. Defenseless.

“Beautiful,” he said, and kissed you.

This was not something apes did, you had gathered by now. Yet the effort was made for your benefit. The press of his lips was somehow pure; the chastest offering. You weren't sure if you believed in souls but yours was tugging, straining to soar free, as if it recognized its like in his.

“If this is over I have to go,” you whispered, as simply as you could. “You know what I feel for you. I can't stay and pretend.”

“I do not ask that,” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours. “And I do not wish it.”

His closeness, his admission, was inebriating; drawn to him you clung to his shoulders, the tide of sheer feeling forcing the air from you in ragged gulps.

“Stay,” he said, brushing his mouth over your cheek, your forehead, his breath unsteady on your hair. “Stay _with me._ What you feel... I feel.”

Your arms around his neck were desperate even as they trembled. You couldn't speak.

“Sometimes there is... much I do not say. But I do not lie.” His rough words were a confession, a prayer in this otherworldly sanctum. He pulled back, turning your face to his again. His handsome features were wracked with emotion, his gaze fierce and raw and brilliant. “Do you see truth in my eyes?”

“I see,” you breathed.

When Caesar kissed you again, it was a promise.

He laid you on a dry spot in the grass, your coat beneath, his broad frame and the spring's hot air keeping you warm. He undressed you as if he'd never seen you before, as if it had been a year instead of only a week since he last had his hands on you this way. His touch was overwhelming and undisciplined and yet a sacrament, desire and devotion in flawless sync.

With no one around to hear you called out his name in intoxicated delight and he captured it with his mouth, pressing you into the ground, his body a transcendent weight on yours as he ravished your depths. As he had once before his teeth grazed your neck, jaws open, set and ready and vibrating with restraint; you wanted that sublime arc of pain, needed him to make you his.

You had only to whisper your encouragement, rocking into his thrusts, and he bit down into yielding flesh. You cried out, strangled and gasping; and with a blinding peak of pleasure the lancing pain dovetailed with your climax.

He smoothed your hair, reclaiming some of his body weight so you could catch your breath.

"Stay with me," he said again; as if he had to hear it, needed your word.

"Yes," you panted. "Yes." 

He swallowed it up, sealing the vow.

 

 

* * *

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

 

**_Three Months Later_ **

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh my God, Caesar, she's going to bounce me right off.” 

“She won't. Lean forward as we go up – ”

You gritted your teeth and gripped with your legs as the young mare accelerated to make it up the hill, nose-to-tail with Caesar's stallion. You'd never ridden solo outside the training paddock before, and though the appropriate muscles had developed it was far different riding in the open like this, you alone in charge of the snorting, eager animal. Smoke was one of the smaller horses, and Caesar had chosen her for you to learn on due to her placid temperament, but the excitement of the outing was getting the better of her and she all but pranced up the slope.    

As you came over the rise a vast meadow spread out before you, carpeted with the first of the spring flowers. Smoke’s hooves parted the golden yarrow and purple-white wild onions, and she swished her gray tail at a bee and dipped her head to munch. You drew up on the reins, tapping her with your heels to follow Caesar as he broke into a gallop. She sprang forward, and your lurch of nerves was accompanied by a rush of exhilaration as you flew across the field, the wind whipping your hair. Ahead of you, Caesar's horse kicked up clods of dirt. Though your knuckles were white on the saddle's pommel, you let out an uncontrollable whoop of joy. 

 

* * *

 

The sun shone spangled through the tree's spreading branches, dappling you and Caesar in buttery light. Nearby the horses grazed on the tender new grass, sweet-smelling beneath you as you laid supine and drowsy, Caesar's thigh as your pillow. Between your fingers you rolled a daisy, toying absentmindedly with the creamy petals and fluff of the center stamen. The recent surge in temperature both invigorated and relaxed you. Winter always felt so tense - shoulders hunched as you huddled by the fire, the bulk of multiple layers of clothing, hurrying here and there to minimize time spent out in the cold - but now you could spread out, basking in the heat like a lizard on a rock.  

“I will never need to ask if you are happy,” came Caesar's soft rasp, and you cracked open an eye to see him angling his head down at you. “Your face shows everything.” 

You rolled into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and he reclined in the grass, pulling you flush atop him. You giggled, rubbing your cheek on his chest and inhaling the smoky-fresh scent of him. Rain and fire and rich, damp earth.

“Do you still think about them?” 

“Who?” You pulled back, bracing your hands on either side of him. “Other humans?” As you pondered you watched a ladybug crawling over a blade of grass, and when it disappeared on the underside, you looked back down at Caesar. “Yeah. Do you?”

“Sometimes.” 

From this elevation you could just make out San Francisco Bay, the skyline colorless and hazy in the distance. A decaying monument to what once was. You knew Caesar had lived all his life in the city before the Flu but you were from further north, and had never made it that far. You might have, eventually. 

“I wonder if there's even anyone there,” you said at last, settling back down on him.  

“Ten winters now,” he said. “Last two, no sign of humans... except you.” 

“What if I had been an asshole?” you mused. A tremor of laughter ran through Caesar's chest.

“I knew good humans. Long ago.” You felt the shift of his head, and knew he was gazing out over the silent city. “Since then, I sometimes... thought apes were better than humans. But now I know a good human again.” 

“We destroyed ourselves.” All remnants and ruins now. “Probably still are.” 

“Doesn't matter now.”

“But I'm human. I'm part of that.” 

“Human, ape... you don't have to be anything but yourself.” His hands had been moving idly on your waist but now he caressed your jaw. “Only Firefly.”

You smiled to yourself at this nickname he'd given you, after that night high up at the hot spring. You turned your head, away from the distant city to look at the mountains behind. Tendrils of wildflowers were spreading up the slopes, silhouetted against a rare and vivid azure sky. These woods no longer felt foreign to you; rather, like a kind of second language you were at last becoming fluent in. 

“You... are happy?” he prompted, as if seeking a more concrete confirmation.

“I couldn't find what I wanted - what I needed - down there with what's left of them.” You sat up, parting your thighs around his hips. “But I found it here.” 

“We will not think of them any more,” he said decisively. You could hardly think of anything, not with his thumbs making such distracting circles on your hipbones. His fingers drifted higher and you squealed as he threatened to tickle, grabbing at his hands to stop him. The horses lifted their heads, ears flicking at the sound.

“Your riding skills are improving,” he noted, glancing at them. 

“Really?” You shifted your hips over his just so, sliding your fingers along his forearms. “I’m glad you think so.” 

He processed the innuendo, letting out the smallest sigh at your silliness; but his gaze darkened with purpose, and you gasped with laughter as he deftly flipped you on your back, pinning you to the ground.

The grass pricked your bare neck, then your back, then your legs, as Caesar undressed you piece by piece. The sun left little spots of heat on your nude body, highlighted by the warm, rough pads of his fingertips. Time slowed. Somewhere distant, a dragonfly hummed. It was if you also were just another part of nature, manifestations of the most pure and primal energy. There was only you, and him, and the earth below and the sky above and the way his mouth curved a smile into your skin. Elemental. 

You let your eyes flutter shut, and even still, the sun through your lids made your inner world crimson and gold. 

 

* * *

 

Bathing was never an indulgent affair. Even now that the seasons were changing the waterfall remained frigid, and you scrubbed yourself hastily with your chunk of soap. By the time you’d returned to the village you’d been sweaty and flecked with mud from the ride back, and had left Caesar in the cave for a much-needed wash. You’d grown practiced at the routine and finished in near-record time, drying yourself briskly with your one precious towel. 

On a dime your stomach heaved, and abruptly you doubled over and vomited into the rushing water. A second wave came and you sank to your knees, naked and shivering and coughing as your gut convulsed and ejected its contents. 

And then it passed, almost as soon as it came.

Panting and spitting, you scooped a handful of water and rinsed the sour taste from your mouth. Dread unfurled in your now-empty stomach like spilled ink, staining and spreading. The water flowed merrily on into the rocks. In a daze you dressed and stumbled, almost tripping over untied bootlaces, back through the passage. You could blame it on sour berries, but you'd eaten plenty of those before with no side effects. The fish at breakfast had smelled off, but nobody else seemed to have noticed...

Caesar turned at your sudden entrance and you stopped short, immobilized like a butterfly on a mounting board. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I think I ate something bad,” you said vaguely. “Could be the fish. It smelled funny to me. Did you notice that? It was caught just this morning, though... so it was fresh…” You were rambling. 

“Do you have medicine?” 

“I think so.” You rummaged through the baskets you kept your belongings in until you found the meager first aid kit. It was basic but you dug around anyway, peering at the label on one of many small plastic bottles. “Huh. Benadryl. I didn't know that treated nausea.” Still babbling. Your tongue was thick in your mouth. “This expired years ago. Maybe I'll take two. I bet three would be okay.” 

_Adults and children 12 years of age and older, 1-2 tablets. When using this product, drowsiness may occur. If pregnant, ask a health professional before use._

The sentence was like a klaxon in your head.

_If pregnant, ask a health professional before use._

Your hands began to tremble violently. The pills rattled inside the bottle. 

From your peripheral vision you were aware of Caesar's concern as he crossed the cave to you. You couldn't breathe. You dropped the bottle and it clattered on the floor; you flexed unsteady fingers. You bent to retrieve it but Caesar got there first, his hand closing over yours.

“Are you really alright?” 

You sat down hard on the stony ground. 

“I can't take this. I don't know any health professionals.” 

Caesar scanned the tiny print on the bottle. You knew immediately when he understood. An invisible force seemed to fill him, radiating like light, his lips shaping that rare, full smile you loved. 

You felt sick again.

“How long?” His whisper was tentative; reverent.

“Morning sickness is a very early symptom.” You sounded clinical; detached. Like you were reading a passage from a medical textbook. You took the bottle from him, squeezing it in your fist. The ridged cap hurt. “I only just missed my period. I didn't even... really think about it. It's so easy to lose track of time now…” 

You felt like a rag doll as Caesar crushed you in his arms, still clutching the pills like a talisman even as they were trapped between you. He buried his face in your shoulder, chest heaving. Overwhelmed tears burned your eyes. You wanted to sob; to scream.

“Caesar, I can't breathe – ”

“I'm sorry.” He released you, hands roaming over your back, as if unable to settle. You wanted the comfort of his presence and yet you almost couldn't bear to look at him, not with his features wreathed with such profound and indescribable feeling.

Now you watched that joy trickle away like water through a sieve. 

“You're... not happy.” His statement was one of bemusement.

“I didn't think this was going to happen.” The admission was choked, sticking in your throat like you'd wolfed down food too fast. “I’m not even a hundred percent sure.” 

“I was not sure, either.” His eyes roved over you, seeking, trying to figure out your distress. “You know I had mostly... given up on the possibility. But it has happened! Isn't it a... a gift?” 

“No!” you gasped. “When I was brought here I only agreed to do this because I needed food, and shelter… I never would've considered it if I thought there was any _chance_...”

He looked wounded; uncertain. Such an expression was unfamiliar on him and the chasm of pain and confusion in you only deepened. 

When he at last spoke, his voice was a mere scrape of a murmur, his stare unfocused and grim. “Is the thought of bearing my child so revolting to you?”

“I don't know!” You’d been stripped of any ability to even fib. “It's not about you, it's – we're two different species. What's going to result from this?” For the first time you visualized the microscopic blob, a mere smudge of cells – negligible in size, probably still indistinguishable, but overwhelming in significance on both a personal and evolutionary level. “What if it’s – deformed, or sick? What if I lose it? This is a... a science experiment!” 

Your voice was running away from you, racing into hysteria and you hid in your arms, curling in on yourself; not unlike that very thing inside you.

You could hear only your own erratic breathing, the distant calls of apes in the village below. You wanted Caesar to gather you in his strong embrace, to reassure you with his sparse but effective words; and yet if he touched you it might just be unbearable. For a rock-bottom second you wanted to be far removed from him, from this place, from all of it. This morning’s dreamy mood had evaporated like mist.

When Caesar finally spoke, his voice was unfathomable. “I – ”

He was cut off by a resounding crack that split the tension like an axe through wood. You jerked your head up; Caesar was already on his feet, staring out, concentrating on the echo of what you recognized immediately as – 

“That was a gun,” you blurted, and he nodded, still listening. 

The apes hooted in panic, Maurice's distinctive calls rising above the furor. The adrenaline from your private crisis was refreshed by a new rush of it as you tied your bootlaces and hurried down after Caesar to the courtyard. He signed something about weapons, you couldn’t quite make out his hands, but the apes were already arming themselves with spears and pouring out through the gates. In the woods beyond were faint distressed screams and Caesar halted, intent, as if recognizing them.

You considered retrieving the pistol still stashed in your bag but the apes were wasting no time, and it was all you could do to keep up. 

They naturally traveled faster than you, charging on all fours and swinging through the trees like a dark tide. You followed in their wake, falling behind a little, but there were so many it would be impossible to lose them. You reached the crest of a steep wooded slope and suddenly there they were, gathered and formidable as they glared out over an old hiking trail, spears poised and ready. On a stump at the base of the hill Caesar loomed, menacing. 

Below him was a group of people. 

You hadn’t seen human beings in almost a year. There were six: several men, and a woman, and a teenage boy. The latter two were glued together, unnerved and staring. A wild-eyed man with a buzzcut had the muzzle of his rifle aimed at Ash, Blue Eyes, and Rocket. Rocket knelt on the ground wailing, cradling his son in his arms, hands frantic as he signed, _They shot Ash, they shot my son!_

“We don't mean any harm!” another of the men shouted. His hat shaded his stubbled face, cautious as he advanced to the forefront of the group.

“They're apes, man,” Buzzcut hissed, fidgety as he gripped the gun. “You think they understand what you're sayin'?”

The leader's eyes were wary but supplicating, and wholly focused on Caesar. You did not come any closer, but his attention must have been drawn by your incongruence among the sea of apes. He did a double take. Under his breath, you just barely made out, “I'll bet _she_ does.” 

“ _Go!_ ” Caesar roared, and it was enough to make even you flinch. 

“Holy shit,” Buzzcut croaked, his fear rippling through the little group. 

Caesar leaped off the stump, rising directly in front of them. The apes began to make noises of agitation, spilling down the slope.

“Okay... okay. We're going,” the leader said, holding up apologetic hands.

“Go!” bellowed Koba. You'd never heard him speak before. “Go!” 

Apes hooted and shrieked and overflowed into the trail as the group scrambled and retreated, backpacks bouncing. Caesar threw his arms out to stop anyone from giving chase. He was unblinking.

“Koba,” he called, and the bonobo hurried up, spear over his shoulder. _Koba, follow._

Koba did not hesitate as he took to the trees, Grey and Stone with him.

 

* * *

 

The village was in a barely controlled commotion. 

Ash sat just outside the council circle, uncharacteristically subdued. The bullet had only grazed his bicep and you sat cross-legged beside him, dabbing antibiotic ointment on the gaping red laceration as Koba told of the large settlement he’d seen in the city: the guards, and some kind of center hub in a large building, and what sounded to you like an armory.

 _We must attack them now._ He was restless, making guttural growls with each burst of his hands. _Before they attack us!_

Maurice, ever deliberate, held up a finger. _We don't know how many there are, or how many guns they have. Or why they came up here._

Koba snorted in dismissal and turned his ire to Rocket. _They shot your son!_ _Don't you want to fight?_

 _I follow Caesar,_ Rocket grunted, with a jut of his chin.

“Koba's... right.” Blue-Eyes was wide-eyed. _They almost killed you, Ash._

Ash acknowledged him with an O of his lips. The noise around you was reaching a fever pitch, dozens of hands flying amid the rising chorus of screeching and baying and howling –  

“No!” Caesar's single word was cold water on the fire of the frenzy. His eyes were stern as they swept around the circle. _If we go to war, we could lose all we've built_. He touched Koba, both calmer now, under the chin in brotherly goodwill. _And Maurice is right. We don't know why they were here._

 _What do you think they want?_ the orangutan signed to you. One by one, heads swiveled to fix on you, Caesar's included. In the curious hush, the latch of the first aid kit sounded appallingly loud as you snapped it shut.

“I don't know.” As you spoke you supplemented with what signs you knew. “I haven't been to the city. Until now I had no idea anyone was still there, let alone what they'd be doing so far out.” 

 _So she knows nothing,_ Koba interjected, looking not at you but at those around him, as if trying to garner their agreement. Technically he was right, but his attitude made you bristle. 

As if sensing the impending resurgence in tension Caesar stood, taking in the assembly with a knitted brow. _I will think, and decide what to do._

Though the apes seemed more at ease now they did not disperse, remaining in little knots to talk. As you rose with your kit Caesar passed by, signing, _I want to speak with you_. Something in the manner of his request was oddly formal, and you knew his reservation was a remnant from this morning; before the gunshot. 

You ignored the stab of anxiety. Couldn't think about that now. 

Caesar was already heading up to the cave and you turned to follow, but Koba beat you to him, grunting his name to get his attention. 

 _You know that for years I was a prisoner in their lab_ , he signed. _They cut me. Tortured me._ For the first time you felt a prick of pity for him. Then, not new, shame for the acts humanity had committed out of ignorance and greed.

 _You freed me,_ he continued. _I would do anything you ask. But we must show strength!_

 _We will._ Caesar reached out, and they grasped forearms. Koba was no friend to you but his respect for his leader was obvious, and you in turn could respect that. 

Koba didn't look at you as he passed back down, as was his custom, and as Caesar continued up to the cave you fell in behind him. You had never known him to pace or fidget, and now was no different, but his energy was unsettled as he scanned the village, face etched in deep thought.

“I want to go down to the city,” he said, as soon as you’d reached the privacy of the cave. “All of us; together. Strong.” His profile was severe, determined. “I want to know if you will come with us. As a … a… to go between.”

“You mean a mediator?”

“Yes. Humans will be more likely to trust one of their own. To listen.” 

You couldn’t claim to be wholly comfortable with the responsibility. But you nodded. This situation might amount to nothing... or it could be a powder keg. Fear led to aggression. Misunderstandings sparked hostility. The apes were understandably protective of their home, and people... were people. If this wasn't handled with care if could be a disaster. God only knows what that group you'd encountered was telling their community right now. 

You'd glazed over, absorbed in your thoughts, and you glanced up and tried to catch Caesar's eye. He didn't relent.

“Okay,” was all you said. “I’ll do it.” 

The downward tip of his chin was the only signal he had heard you. He went away again - to tell his lieutenants now that you’d agreed, or because he didn’t want to be alone with you, or perhaps both - but that was okay because now you craved quiet, needing to push pause on the emotional and sensory overload.

You didn't want to discuss… _it._ You didn't know what you'd say, how to make him understand the twisted ball of conflicting feelings even you yourself couldn’t decipher. Your perspective on this and his were, you realized, fundamentally different. It felt almost unsurmountable to tackle. You didn't want some histrionic conversation, or the argument that would inevitably follow. You'd never fought with Caesar before. Until now you'd felt you could more or less speak freely to him, but this was different. 

San Francisco was easier somehow. It was tangible, and pressing. 

If the other thing was truly happening, and wasn’t just some very convincing false alarm, it could wait. 

You’d have nine months. 

 

* * *

 

The apes rode out at the first blush of dawn. In ceremonial paint and armed to the teeth, as the show of force it was intended to be it was an awe-inspiring success. If you hadn’t been with them, upon seeing them in the road you would’ve fled. 

Caesar rode at the head of the column, you mounted behind him. You’d been sick again this morning and had hidden it, both unwilling to prompt his concern and still wanting to put off the inevitable conversation. It was easy to conceal, distracted as he was; simpler overall to tuck aside your scattered thoughts to be mulled over and polished and shared at a later date. 

You’d applied his paint for him. You didn’t know who’d always done it before - himself, or a friend. The intimacy of it was inescapable; the sweep of your fingers over his fur, through the paint pot, and back again. A ritual; the warrior appearing before you with each white stroke. He didn’t make eye contact, not even as you drew your forefinger between his eyes and down over his nose. He used this time to explain the basic sentiments he wanted you to express to the humans, but you’d discussed nothing else - not his own deeper feelings on the subject, and certainly not that other, more personal issue. 

It took hours to reach the city. The apes moved faster than humans but they could not maintain it over long distances, and the speed of such a large group was still hampered. You held onto Caesar, wishing you could divine through touch what was going on inside him. Instead you just absorbed his closeness, a physical comfort you could take without it having to _mean_ anything.

The Golden Gate Bridge was still its iconic red, though grimy and sun-bleached to faded terracotta. The apes were quiet and tense now on approach to the city, weaving around abandoned, rusted cars. The sight of the desolate ruins was a bitter tug on your heartstrings. You'd visited once or twice as a kid and your memories of the tourist throngs, busy roads, and colorful wharves did not align with this barren, overgrown place, its life extinguished save for the swooping gulls and masses of curling vines.

The wide boulevard you moved down now was lined with junked-out cars and trash, and dotted with weeds overflowing from cracks in the asphalt. From high up on a wall, a graffiti chimp bared crudely scrawled teeth at you. The subtle turn of Caesar’s head was the only sign he noticed the cartoonish representation of his kind.   

Rising now was the eerie call of sirens, echoing from the dilapidated shell of what appeared to be an unfinished shopping mall at the intersection ahead. The apes fanned out into a semi-circle around it, Caesar and his council at the front. In the open mezzanine above the massive double doors you could see figures darting to and fro, and the unmistakable silhouette of assault rifles.

At first nothing happened. The building remained impassive. Though the apes too remained unmoving behind you the atmosphere was taut almost to the point of snapping. Your horse stamped his foot and tossed his mane. 

Then, beneath the decorative archways the doors creaked open to reveal a mass of frightened human faces, gripping guns close like shields and weapons in one. You couldn't not be compassionate to their fear. If you were in there instead of out here, you would have shared it.   

From the open doorway emerged the same man from yesterday, the one who’d worn the hat. He was bare-headed now, his hair sandy brown, his eyes unsure but frank. As he moved carefully down the front steps others spilled out behind him, but did not follow as he walked out into the open pot-holed street. You recognized the woman and teenager, faces strained. 

Your horse's hooves pierced the fraught silence as Caesar rode forward into the gap between humans and apes. His posture was stiff with aggression, a visible projection of his indomitable will.

“Apes... do not want war.” Those gathered in the doorway gasped and muttered as Caesar's voice carried across the empty space, rough in its natural timbre but clear as a bell in intent. “But will fight if we must.”

He let the message resonate. When he was satisfied it had sunk in he rotated a little, touching your elbow, and you took that as your cue. 

You slid to the ground, mentally recapping what Caesar had instructed you to say. You wanted to project strength and confidence, neither of which you felt – so though you squared your shoulders, a self-conscious flush crept up your cheeks as you stepped ahead of the horse. Though your hands were not cold, to prevent nervous fiddling you stuffed them in your jacket pockets. The stallion snuffled at your shoulder, expecting you to pull out a treat, and you inched forward out of reach.  

The man was the first to break the tension.

“I’m Malcolm.” Despite his obvious apprehension, to his credit he said nothing else, waiting for you to speak. You swallowed. 

“Leave them the woods, and they will not return to the city.” Hundreds of eyes were trained on the pair of you. “What he said is true... they will defend themselves if necessary. But they don't want a conflict. What they want is to be left alone.”

“Can I tell you why we were there? Please,” he said, casting a pleading glance behind you to Caesar. “Just hear me out.” 

You heard the creak of Caesar's saddle as he dismounted, coming to stand beside you. You’d grown accustomed to his unusual size but in direct comparison to you now, you could imagine through these people’s eyes how intimidating he must be.

“Up there is a small hydro,” Malcolm began, interpreting the silence as permission. “It was built to service areas to the north of here, but we've been working to reroute the power lines here. We used to run off nuclear power, but that ran out years ago. So we've been using diesel generators, and gasifiers. But if we can get that dam working, then we have a shot at restoring power.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Caesar's face was unreadable.

“Is any of this making sense to you?” Malcolm's question was not condescending, but hopeful. 

“The lights,” Caesar rumbled at last. “Electricity.” 

“That's right,” Malcolm smiled between the both of you. “Look... that's your home, and we don't want to take it away from you, I promise.” You could see the question in his eyes as they rested on you, but whatever his curiosity, he at least recognized now wasn't the time to address it. “If we can show you the dam, let us do what we need to – ” 

“No guns,” Caesar interrupted. 

Malcolm blinked. “Is – is that a yes?” 

Caesar's jaw worked. You could sense the many threads of thought weaving through his head, the multiple facets of his assessment of the situation. He took in the group in the doorway, then applied his flinty gaze to the man before him.

You'd all but given up faith in other people – you'd trusted too readily too many times, and had attempted to ingrain an automatic suspicion into yourself – but such a reaction did not come naturally. There was an unfeigned honesty in Malcolm's expectant face, and while you could not jump into trusting him after a mere snapshot of a conversation, you found yourself wanting to. 

“Only as many people as you need,” Caesar stipulated. “Tomorrow.”   

Malcolm's face lit up. “Alright,” he said, the word buoyant with relief. He seemed to have more to add, but didn't want to push his luck, so he just nodded again. “Alright.” 

 

* * *

 

The apes had barely reached the bridge before Koba rode up next to Caesar, the very air around him saturated with the fumes of his anger. 

 _She should not have spoken for us,_ he admonished, looping the reins over one arm to sign freely. 

 _I spoke_ ** _with_** _Caesar, at his request,_ you signed back. Koba looked surprised and displeased at your rebuttal, nose twitching.

 _If they get power, they'll be more dangerous,_ he continued to Caesar. _Why help them?_

 _They seem desperate,_ Caesar returned. _If we refuse, they may attack._

“Let... them,” Koba snarled. _We'll destroy them while they're weak._

 _And how many apes would die?_ You couldn't see Caesar's face but his signing was forceful, incredulous. _We have a chance for peace. Let them do their human work, then that will be the end of it._

Koba's lip curled, and he stewed on that, before pointing to the silvery scar behind his ear. “Human... work.” He gestured to another bald patch by his wrist. “Human work.” With his fingertips he jabbed at his blind eye, his movements erratic, voice cracking in defiance. “Human work!?” 

Without warning Caesar accelerated and wheeled his horse in front of Koba, blocking him off. You seized his waist tighter to avoid losing your seat at the sudden swerve. Caesar did not utter a word. His expression was out of view, yet the expanding of his chest and rigidity in his carriage said everything.

At Caesar’s soundless censure Koba shrank submissively into his saddle, ducking his head and extending his hand in contrition. Some apes continued by while others paused, watching, to see if Caesar would accept it. After a beat Caesar nudged the horse parallel to Koba's to swipe the his repentant palm.

On Caesar's other side, Blue Eyes had witnessed the entire exchange. As Caesar clicked his tongue to prompt the horse onward Blue Eyes fell in alongside, sending his father a series of pensive glances. Since the apes set out this morning he had remained watchful rather than an active participant, and his face now was a study in ambiguity.

 _Koba says,_ he ventured, _Apes should hate humans –_

 _Enough._ Caesar cut him off with a slash of his hand. _From humans Koba learned hate, but nothing else._

Those pale blue eyes slid to you. Over the past months the young ape had maintained a cordial distance, only recently shifting into something closer to friendliness. You tried not to take his remark personally – you understood it was not meant as a direct jab at you, but at humanity as a whole, and probably well-deserved – but it stung nonetheless. In his face now you saw not just doubt about the matter at hand but a deeper, more elusive disquiet. 

You offered him a small smile of what you hoped read as rapport. He didn't return it, but didn't ignore you, either. Though you couldn't quite tell due to the horse's gait, he seemed to release a rueful sigh, and with it his features relaxed a degree or two. 

Your wariness of the human community persisted, but so did your interest. From the intel Koba had gathered, and from what you could see into the building, it was large and well-organized. Better equipped, certainly, than any group you’d been with in the past. They’d have to be, to have the knowledge and tools to get a decade-old power system up and running again. The city could never be restored to what it was before, but… there could be a sliver of normalcy, of civilization. Their motive to access the dam needed no explanation for you to understand it.

The suspension cables of the bridge arced above you, the angles of the pylons now standing like a gate in the truest sense: a portal, a crossing over, from the human world to the apes’. 

What did the apes see, when you spoke with Malcolm? A friend, an ally, trusted by Caesar to smooth the way into neutral ground? You had to believe they did. Had to rely on your instinct and hope that the bonds you’d formed were not surface-only. That Koba was a minority in his animosity; that though your biology was what is was, when they saw you with other humans you didn’t just simply melt into them, a drop of water reabsorbed into the whole, _other_ again. 

You’d never felt you were unworthy of the apes' colony and company. Those few percentage points differentiating your DNA from theirs never made you feel inferior. It wasn’t something you dwelled on much at all. Up there, you simply were. But today was a clear-cut reminder, bringing you back to earth. 

And not just this brief meeting. 

Your womb itself was a liminal space. Neither one nor the other. The fraction of a second after you jump, and you’re suspended in midair; the click of a key in an unopened lock. A deep breath, held under the water’s surface. The exact center of a bridge. Unknown and uncharted. 

A lump formed in your throat and you rested your forehead on Caesar’s broad back. If a tear or two leaked out, he did not notice, and you were glad for it. 

 

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

 

 

“ _You know the scary thing about 'em?” The firelight gleamed off Foster's bald pate. “They don't need power, lights, heat, nothing... That's their advantage. That's what makes them stronger.”_

_The apes permitted them to make camp near the dam. For those accustomed to the urban, the black trees and engulfing silence of the forest was disconcerting. The occasional drop of rain struck the strung-up tarp, loud on the plastic sheet._

“ _I'm thinking one of us should stand guard tonight,” Malcolm suggested._

“ _With what?” Foster rebutted. “We have no guns.”_

“ _If they wanted us dead, we would be already,” Malcolm reasoned. “And they wouldn't have agreed for us to come up here.”_

“ _Maybe they're just taking their time.” Carver's voice was low and resentful. “They killed off half the planet already.”_

“ _You can't honestly blame the apes.” Ellie's reproach was soft in volume but but exasperated in tone. “It was a virus created by scientists in a lab, the chimps they were testing on didn't have a say in the matter.”_

“ _Spare me the hippie dippie bullshit,” Carver huffed. “Are you telling me you don't get sick at the sight of them?”_

_Ellie just compressed her lips, and it served only as encouragement. Carver stabbed at the fire with a stick._

“ _Makes me wonder about that girl,” he continued, speculative, as if he were divulging a secret. “The hell is she doing up there? You think they kidnapped her or something?”_

_Malcolm visibly held back an eye-roll. “I doubt that.”_

“ _They're animals, man. It isn't right. Who knows what they – ”_

“ _That's enough.” Malcolm was a tolerant man but the edge in his words signaled the end of his patience._

_Carver shook his head, muttering an inaudible retort, and tugged his ball-cap low over his face._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Why shouldn't I help them?”

Caesar ignored your question as he walked briskly toward the horse paddock. He was bigger but your legs were proportionally longer, and unless he decided to be rude enough to drop on all fours and literally run away from you, it wasn't hard to keep up. “I'm pretty good with my hands and I – ”

He rounded on you, mouth twisting, and you stopped short.

“I have never told you what to do,” he said, each word enunciated and meaningful. “But in this, I ask that you listen to me.

“My help might make the work go faster. And they'll leave sooner, and everyone will be happy.”

“I... value your good intentions.” He softened a shade, and your heart contracted. You knew he hadn't been deliberately avoiding that particular sensitive subject, but the whole colony had been so caught up in this business with the humans that it was the first time in days he'd given you a warm expression. “You desire to keep peace. I want that also.”

“I at least want to come with you to the dam.”

His nod said, of course.

You observed him as you rode side by side; his brow furrowed by the mantle of duty, his entire being attentive and alert. This was the first time you'd see him truly act in his role and he filled it like he was born to it. Caesar indeed.

On the shore of the lake apes sat here and there, observing the people moving from the Jeeps with crates of equipment. You only saw Foster and Kempt. Malcolm, the leader and one who had introduced them all by name, must already be in the powerhouse facility below the dam, along with the others – Ellie, Carver, and his son Alexander.

“Where is Koba?” Caesar queried, riding up to where Blue Eyes, Rocket, and Maurice watched from their horses.

_His mood has not improved,_ the orangutan shrugged in response. _Said he was going hunting._

At first you thought you heard far-off thunder, heralding an oncoming spring shower; but then the lake's surface seemed to vibrate and an muffled explosion burst through the peaceful morning. The horses startled, whinnying and splashing the water, and Caesar swung out to grab your dancing mare's reins before she bolted.

_Was that supposed to happen?_ Blue Eyes signed one-handed, managing his own uneasy horse. Faint human voices were yelling, and Foster and Kempt abandoned their tasks to run across the beach. Caesar pivoted in the saddle to Rocket, grunting, “Go and see.”

“They're probably trying to clear the debris,” you said, thinking aloud. A massive tangle of branches and fallen trees had accumulated against the dam, piling up almost to the point of spilling over the walls. Rocket and a few others scrambled easily over the detritus to follow the humans down the ladder. “It's probably blocking the interior channels as well.”

It wasn't long before the humans came limping back up the access ladder. Carver was battered and blood-smeared, crying out in pain, braced by Malcolm on one side and Ellie on the other. Without glancing at Caesar you slid off your horse, sloshing through the shallow water to where they gathered by their stacks of supplies.

“I was going to ask if you needed anything but clearly not,” you said, upon seeing the medical-grade first aid kid.

“You could hand me that bandage,” Ellie said, keeping pressure on the oozing wound as Malcolm lowered Carver, groaning, onto a fallen log. You complied, kneeling next to her on the pebbled beach and unwinding the bandage.

“It's not broken,” she confirmed. Carver grimaced and dug his nails into the whitened driftwood as she began to cleanse and wrap the bloody wound.

Malcolm, soaked and rumpled, moved past to where Caesar remained on his horse. Their conversation was muted at this distance, and you couldn't make out the exact exchange, but in Malcolm's voice there was unmistakable and sincere gratitude. Whatever they'd been trying to do with the explosives must have succeeded. He was explaining something further, gesturing, and you concluded that only the first part of their work was complete. Or else he was giving Caesar a lesson in hydroelectricity.

“So what are you doing up here?” Carver's question pulled you back. His face was skeptical but curious as he mopped blood from an abrasion near his hairline.

“I was out here on my own,” you said, handing Ellie a second bandage roll as she motioned for it. “I was barely making it. The apes found me and took me in.” That was more or less the truth, wasn't it?

“Huh. No kidding.” He flinched as Ellie tucked the end of the first bandage in and he hesitantly extended his foot, eyeing her handiwork as she continued to wrap. “You know we've got a pretty nice set-up in the city. You don't have to rough it out here.”

You'd heard similar before. Then again, you'd never seen any group as large and equipped as this. “What's it like?”

“We got hot showers, for one,” he grinned.

“That's it," you joked. "I'm sold."

“There's space enough that everyone gets their own room,” he continued, “Vegetable greenhouse, real kitchens, great grub though I'd steer clear when Hank's doing breakfast...”

His focus fell below your eye-line, and held. Uncertain, you glanced down, and realized the scoop neck of your sweater revealed the bite mark Caesar left months ago. The pink scar was only visible up close like this, but its distinctive crescent pattern unequivocally gave away its origin. You pulled your neckline up but the movement was unnatural, not as discreet as you'd been aiming for.

“Whoa, what is that?” The edge in his previously relaxed voice caught Ellie's attention.

“You know how it is,” you shrugged, with nonchalant commiseration. “The world's tough now. You get hurt.”

“Did you see – ” he hissed at Ellie, as if you weren't present. “Didn't I tell you?”

“Tell her what?” you said, as Ellie simultaneously prompted, “Carver, what are you talking about?”

“Listen,” he said, leaning toward you conspiratorially. His tone was cajoling but his jumpiness was unnerving; even, it would seem, to Ellie. “You can come with us, you know? We can get you out of here.”

“I don't need anyone to get me out of anything,” you insisted, as calm as you could. You stood, brushing sand off your pants. Ellie didn't return to her task, blinking in confusion. “Whatever you're thinking, it's – it's wrong.”

Over their heads, Caesar's gaze met yours. Whether he sensed trouble or was just checking in, his watchfulness made you feel safe, and you sent him a small, assuring smile.

“Oh.” Carver dragged the word out, staring at you with a dawning understanding in his brown eyes. He shook his head in slack, dumbfounded disbelief. “Oh... I get it. Shit. Now that... _that_ is something else.”

You tilted your head in question, feigning casual ignorance, but a flush crept up your cheeks. His features, affable a moment ago, contorted into a mask of outrage and revulsion. Ellie stared between the two of you, irritated and bemused and waiting for clarification.

“I think he's just mistaken about something,” you said directly to her, backing away. “Sorry for the misunderstanding. I'm going to go on back now.”

Without warning Carver lunged and snagged the hem of your sweater and you tripped, sprawling face-first on the beach. Your hipbone connected with a half-buried rock and you couldn't even gasp, the wind knocked out of you, only able to produce a rattling gulp of pain.

You rolled on your side, suffocating on a whimper, to find Carver looming over you. But he didn't get a chance to even open his mouth before a dark blur hurtled into your peripheral vision and _slammed_ Carver to the ground, dropping him like a child's toy. Carver's body flopped as Caesar grabbed the front of his shirt and shook, raising his huge fist to pummel the man again –

“Don't!” Malcolm cried out. “Don't, Caesar, no!”

Caesar's arm went static in midair, cocked back and ready to strike. His hackles were raised, fur bristling over his shoulders and biceps, and he panted through clenched teeth... but when his eyes slid to yours you the anger was eclipsed by concern.

His fingers uncurled, and he dropped Carver without so much as looking at him.

“Hurt?” The low rumble was meant for you alone, as he took both your hands and drew you to your feet.

“No,” you winced, reaching up under your sweater. “I mean, it hurts, but...” Alarm flared in his eyes as he zeroed in on your abdomen, framing your hips with hesitant palms.

“No, no,” you repeated. “I'm fine, it's not –it was just a bump _._ That's all,” you promised, since he didn't seem convinced.

As if the protective bubble around you had been popped you became aware of the humans' stares fixed on you, translating what was unfolding. Caesar had done nothing more than help you up and ensure you were unharmed... and yet the protective frame of his arms, the intimacy of his hands seeking for damage, the instant and merciless attack on Carver all told a story.

You crossed your own arms, a shield from exposure to their analysis. They looked like intruders now, rubberneckers; their bodies and features and arrangement of their limbs deeply familiar and yet simultaneously incongruous, as they stood in their anxious little knot. Carver was still in a heap on the ground, wheezing and gawking.

“You will leave.” Caesar directed his guttural command at the huddled group.

Malcolm stepped forward, imploring, “Caesar – ”

“Now!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Caesar set a jarring pace as you thundered back to the colony. You rode tucked firmly into his chest, his arm an iron band around you. You clutched his forearm to secure yourself. The others followed close on your heels, Blue Eyes leading your horse alongside his own.

As you charged in through the gates Caesar didn't allow you to dismount alone, swinging you down by your waist.

“I don't want to have this conversation here,” you said as soon as your feet hit dirt, cutting him off before he could initiate it. You respected that apes had a different idea of privacy than humans but right now you needed the latter.

Caesar blew out through his nose, rolling his neck. But he acquiesced, letting you go ahead of him up into the cave.

Your cave. You could say that now. Not his, or the. Yours.

His presence was a colossus behind you, brimming with things deeply felt yet still unspoken. Despite his many responsibilities, you didn't think for a second he hadn't kept that more personal matter in the back of his mind. It had been there when he'd fallen into bed late at night, after long discussions with his advisors, and watched you as he thought you slept. It had been there when he'd urged you to eat a second helping at dinner. And it had erupted to the forefront, before apes and humans alike, when Carver tripped you at the lake.

As soon as you were in the cave and out of sight from the others below you turned to him, raking your fingers through your hair, waiting: for him to speak first, or for the unformed thoughts in your own mind to cobble themselves together into something coherent you could express.

Despite Caesar's intensity his rage had dissipated, simmering down during the hard ride. He stared at you, guarded at first, then released a heavy sigh. The stiff restraint in his posture began to thaw as he lowered his gaze to the floor.

“I fear what they will do.” His gruff tenderness seemed laced with a sort of sorrow. “If they know.”

His hand, so associated with strength to you, was tentative now as it splayed over your stomach. Your breath caught at this direct and intimate acknowledgment.

“I fear... what I felt when I saw him touch you.”

“Don't worry. I'll probably just have a bruise. Big purple one,” you added, with a wry smile. He cupped your face, brushing the pads of his thumbs over the corner of your eyes where they'd watered from the wind.

“That is not what I mean.”

You curved your hands over his wrists. “I know.”

For the past few days your existence had seemed slightly off-kilter, like the ground beneath you had shaken and come to rest not-quite-correctly again. But as he pulled your forehead to his, with a fierceness born not from aggression but from a deep upwelling of emotion, it was as if the world shifted back into proper alignment.

“I'm afraid, too,” you admitted. The gap between you was a confessional, with space not for secrets or falsehoods but only for your shared breath. “About... about everything. All of it. What I said before, about this being a science experiment, I didn't mean it how it sounded – ”

“No apologies.” His fingers slid into your hair. “I know your heart.”

You buried your face in his neck, melting into the solidity of his embrace. With no hesitation his arms wrapped around your back, fitting your body into his, a puzzle with just two pieces.

Interrupting the sanctity was a cascade of hoots and calls from below, and you broke apart as Malcolm and Ellie abruptly stumbled in, jostled and shoved by indignant apes.

“Please,” Malcolm said – no finesse, no segue into it – spreading his hands in contrition. “I don't know why Carver lashed out like that. I'll make him leave.”

“This is my home,” Caesar growled without looking at him. His eyes bored into yours, bright with fresh displeasure. “You should not be here.”

Ellie stepped forward, cautious and placating. “I used to be a nurse.”

Malcolm looked thrown by her off-topic comment, recognizing that something was going over his head, but he masked it well. When Ellie's eyes flicked to yours you knew instantly that, seen from a woman's perspective, the situation was abundantly clear to her.

Caesar remained the very image of contempt. “I do not trust you.”

“I don't blame you,” Malcolm said. “But believe me, we're not all like him.”

Caesar's hand covered yours. “I know.”

“I want Ellie to take a look,” you murmured. “Caesar. It's okay.”

Caesar turned in one swift movement, looming, seeming to fill the space – and then he signed for the apes to clear out. Their obedience was reluctant, and their frenetic energy lingered.

“You too,” you said to him. The slant of his eyes was cynical but you waited, beseeching without a word, and he relented.

_I'll be just outside,_ he signed.

As he strode out, a rather baffled Malcolm followed in his wake.

Ellie's poker face was good, but not that good, and her ambivalence was written all over her face as she gestured for you to lie back in the nest. Her hands were gentle as she wiggled your waistband down a bit, examining and probing the swollen spot over the ridge of your hip.

“It'll probably bruise,” she concluded. “But that's all.”

“I figured.”

As she withdrew she bit at her bottom lip and looked away, too quickly to be natural.

“So I take it you have a pretty good idea what's really happening here,” you muttered.

“I just know what I saw at the dam.” She looked out the mouth of the cave, sparing you the discomfort of direct eye contact. She had a nice bedside manner. She must have been a great nurse. “Do you... want to fill me in on the rest?”

You didn't respond right away. You hadn't said the word aloud before now. It wasn't a thing you could whisper, the consonants demanding to be spoken clearly and fully.

“I think I'm pregnant.”

Your confirmation of her suspicions all but echoed off the rocky walls. You sat up next to her, pulling your sweater back into place and joined her in looking out of the cave, as if the tree tops and wispy clouds held answers for you both in how to proceed.

“I had an idea,” she said at last. You could feel her gaze drift down to your belly. “The way he touched you.” There was a wistful thread to her voice, as if long ago, someone had once shown her such paternal care. “How long since your last menstrual cycle?”

“I'm not sure. Five or six weeks, I think. I've been sick in the mornings. Things smell bad.”

Silence reigned, each of you turning your private thoughts over like a worry-stone.

“Sounds about right,” she murmured. Her profiled face was stunned as she processed the gravity of it, yet there was none of Carver's hostility. She cleared her throat.

“If you're concerned about the fall, don't be. The fetus is very small and well-protected at this early stage.”

“I know. That's what I told him.”

She blinked, then one corner of her mouth twitched up. “I guess some things transcend species.”

You couldn't help your own surprised, awkward chuckle; the sound was a pressure valve on the tension, and some of your reserve seeped away.

“We have several doctors, back in the city,” Ellie offered. “It would be a good idea to at least get you some prenatal vitamins.”

A wash of feeling flooded you, as if all the shock and fear you'd ignored came crashing together in waves now, overwhelming and pushing you below the surface. You let out a long, barely-controlled breath.

“Have you noticed there aren't any kids around?” you blurted. “The apes are sterile. Most of them, anyway. When a pregnancy succeeds it usually ends in a miscarriage.”

“Well,” was all Ellie said. Your pulse pounded with the emotional release of having confided this to a human, to another woman, as you waited for her to digest it. “Even in a... a normal scenario, in the case of an first trimester miscarriage there's nothing to be done to stop it.”

She hesitated, weighing something on the tip of her tongue.

“Don't beat around the bush,” you prompted. In addition to your own innate desire to trust and connect, Caesar's bluntness was rubbing off on you. “You can say it. Whatever it is.”

She spoke carefully. “How are you doing?” Four ordinary words, a common phrase, and yet utterly loaded.

“I'm not here against my will, if that's what you're asking.” You weren't upset. It wasn't an illogical assumption for her to make. “Carver thought that, too. He was wrong.”

“Okay.” It was unexpected, her taking you at your word, but a relief.

“I want to go to the city,” you said, as she stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. “I want a doctor.”

“We can do that.” Ellie looked down at you, thinking, and an apologetic dimple appeared in one cheek. “I don't even know your name.”

You considered. It must look funny, someone pondering her own name. You held back a self-deprecating laugh. Until now the Flu had served as a neat divider for your life. Before, and after. Now there was a new benchmark. There was the chaos, the struggle, the stress, and then there was... here. Then there was Caesar.

You walked with her to the cave's entrance, and despite the many dark heads below, it was easy to pick out his, like a bodyguard at the base of the ramp.

You smiled at Ellie. “Firefly.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Caesar granted his permission for work to continue on the dam, provided Carver was banished. Malcolm readily agreed. After they left, you wondered what Ellie would tell him.

The sun was setting later in the evening now, streaking the blue sky through with coral. As you explained Ellie's offer to Caesar, sitting together before the cooking fire, you could see how torn he was. His confidence in the humans was so low as to be negligible, and yet he knew what risks you faced. Blue Eyes' mother had died delivering him. The thought of medical care was an irresistible prospect to you both.

“I want you to go,” he assented. “When the humans are finished with their work, we will go to the city together.” 

The quiet dinner was interrupted by Koba tearing into the camp on horseback, the animal tossing its head as he flung himself off it.

“Where Caesar!?” he bellowed, casting his one-eyed stare around. It fell on Caesar as he rose, signing, _What has happened?_

_Just came from the city._ Koba loped up, snorting. _Humans very dangerous!_

_What do you mean? What have you seen?_

_Guns. Many guns. Many weapons!_ He mimed the shape of a rifle. _Who knows what the humans are really doing up here?_

Caesar sank back down, introspective. Koba joined the circle, orange catch-lights from the fire glimmering in his milky eye.

_I have seen their work, and their equipment,_ Caesar ruminated. _They are doing as they say they are._

_You trust humans,_ Koba glared. _I do not!_

_You tell me this often,_ Caesar rejoindered. His patience with Koba's insolence was wearing thin. _Do you not think I am being cautious? Do you think I place my trust blindly?_

_On my way back I passed by their camp. I heard what they said. I know they attacked your woman!_

You didn't for a moment think Koba was interested in your welfare. You were just a tool to advance his own opinion, to prod his leader with. But regardless Caesar darkened at the reminder, jaw tightening.

_It was only one of them,_ you spoke up. _And Caesar dealt with him. Anyone here can tell you._

Koba's squint swept to you now. _How do we know you don't collaborate with the humans?_ It was rare that he ever spoke to you and a new alertness prickled through the circle of apes.

“Collaborate how? I've barely talked to them.” You forced yourself to remain composed, to not grant Koba the satisfaction of riling you up. “I think Caesar's right. All they want to do is fix the dam so they can restore power. Nothing sinister.”

_Even you thought that living alone in the wilderness was better than living with humans._ Blue Eyes showed no malice, and his interjection was true, but he was just giving Koba more ammunition.

“Which one is it?” you said, glancing between the both of them. “Am I plotting in secret with these people, or are they so awful even I don't trust them? It can't be both.”

Blue Eyes had the decency to look abashed but Koba just spat, “Humans... care only for humans.” _Can turn on you at any moment,_ he added in sign.

_I've had enough of this, Koba,_ Caesar said. “No more – ”

“Why are you so determined to despise me?” you snapped, leaning forward and glaring at Koba over the fire. “Hate me if you must but at least hate me for something I myself have done.”

For a heartbeat you thought, hoped, you might have gotten through to him. But then his lip wrinkled up over his fangs in a mocking smirk.

“Caesar's woman,” he said, throwing his triumphant voice for all to hear, “Has a gun.”

Interest rippled through the apes. Your stomach sank down into your boots. You'd mentioned it to Caesar months ago and yet he stiffened beside you, and you knew without looking that he was gauging the mood of the group.

_How do you know this, Koba?_ Maurice was as rational as ever.

With only a snort in response Koba galloped away and up the ramp to your cave. Caesar shot upright, irate at the disrespect of such an invasion, but before he could take off after him Koba reemerged on the ledge. In one hand was your pistol, and he held it aloft like a trophy.

“Humans gave her a gun!” he shrieked. The apes' responses were disorganized, hushed gibbers filtering through the courtyard.

_She has had it from the beginning,_ Caesar signed, turning so all could see, though his hands moved so fast you struggled to follow.

_So she does not trust apes?_ Koba was pinnacle of smug.

“I trust nobody.” Your voice, so audibly different than the others, rang across the gathering. “The world is dangerous. For everyone. I keep a weapon just as you all do with your spears.”

“Koba, you lie!” Caesar's rebuke was furious, almost boiling over with it, but rather than Koba's unhinged belligerence he spoke with utter surety. _You contradict yourself with your stories and accusations. You insult me, and her, and you insult yourself._

A murmur of assent ran through the crowd. If Koba expected to whip them into rebellion, he was failing.

“Humans put us in danger,” he growled, livid now. He tossed aside the gun with a clatter and stalked down the ramp. “You let them stay!? It is you who shame yourself.”

As Koba approached his scowl was a taunt; a challenge. “Caesar loves his human more than apes!”

Caesar inhaled sharply, every fiber of him vibrating with barely controlled tension. You didn't know how much longer his self-discipline would hold out.

_You said she would be gone by now,_ Koba signed. His subsequent sneer told you your reaction must be plain. He stabbed a quivering finger in your direction. _You did not even want her here longer than necessary and still she makes you weak!_

You'd never heard Caesar roar the way he did as he launched himself at Koba. Maurice yanked you out of the way by the back of your sweater as they rolled head over heels, a tangle of arms and legs, Koba landing on top and screaming as he pounded Caesar's chest. The apes' screeches were deafening.

Caesar threw up defensive arms and bucked him off, flipping him over and straddling him. He roared again as he beat Koba's face, slamming him into the ground twice, three times, teeth bared as he began to choke him – the macabre gurgling and wheezing sent ice water through your veins, turning your stomach as the bonobo abandoned hope of fighting back and only cowered, slapping feebly at Caesar's hands.

Before you could consider the consequences you squirmed free of Maurice's grip and ran to them, falling to your knees by the grappling pair. “Caesar!”

His name acted like an electric shock and he jerked his head up, eyes slitted and savage.

“Caesar,” you repeated. “Don't. Not like this.”

Caesar's vicious snarl flickered away, his breath coming in heavy rasps as, slowly, he released his death grip on Koba's neck. You held no love for Koba but you couldn't bear to see Caesar commit murder, to watch him strangle the life out of his advisor, no matter how wretched he was.

Caesar pushed himself to his feet, exhaling and taking stock of the apes surrounding you. The havoc had died down and they all watched now with anticipation as Koba rolled over and into a crouch. Blood leaked in rivulets down his damaged face as he extended his hand, without looking at Caesar.

“Forgive me.”

The pause seemed to last eons. Your movements as you stood were measured, not wanting to distract. On all sides, everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

Caesar barely made contact with the proffered palm before Koba whirled around, limping away and skulking back to his hut. There was no condemnation in the apes' reactions, but Caesar did not so much as glance at them as he stormed out of the village.

The apes were subdued as they began to settle back to their meals. You had been hungry, ravenous even, but now what food you'd eaten sat like a stone in your stomach.

You should leave him be. You picked at the remnants in your bowl, watching the gates. You felt somehow hollow, unsettled, and not just because of the atmosphere and many glances your way. Blue Eyes in particular looked stricken, brooding out into the encroaching twilight.

There was a tap on your shoulder. Maurice's smile had always been kind, but now it held a new respect. _Caesar would have regretted it,_ he signed.

_I know._ You gave up on eating and set down your bowl, staring into the fire. When you looked up again, Maurice gently inclined his head toward the gates.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets as you wove through the scattered groups of apes, not bothering to see if they were watching. Twigs crunched underfoot as you entered the forest, darker now but still lit with the last diffused rays of day. You vacillated, then veered toward the stream, peering through the trees for any sign of him. He could be anywhere in these vast woods, and you felt a bit foolish for having come.

Your heart lurched into your throat at the abrupt silhouette that appeared between two towering redwoods.

“Caesar,” you breathed. "You startled me.”

He stepped out from the shadows, his weary face visible now in the waning light. You went straight to him, not waiting for any encouragement, running your hand along his bruised face and down to the light birthmark on his pectoral.

“I don't know what to say,” you confessed.

“You should not have interfered.” He spoke gruffly and through gritted teeth. “But... I am glad you did.”

He touched your features with thumb and forefinger, tracing the structure of the bones and curve of your cheek.

“You were upset, at what Koba told you I said. About you leaving.”

“A little. I don't know.” You leaned into his hand. “It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me. That... you know those things were said long ago.”

“Then I believe you.”

He accepted it with a long sigh. His eyes were piercing, as ever, but gentled now as he grazed a knuckle over the curve of your chin.

“Koba will be humiliated,” he meditated. “That you stepped in to spare his life.”

“Better embarrassed than dead," you frowned, letting pettiness take over. “Besides, maybe he should be. What happened in his past was awful but he's long overdue to stop taking it out on me.”

“You're not wrong.” He kissed your forehead, the press of his lips solid and steadfast. “He would never admit to being afraid, but inside, fear is what he feels.”

Your fingers sank into his fur as he kissed one brow, jaw rubbing against your temple.

“Not with us,” he swore huskily into your hair. “Will you promise with me? Not with you and I. And not about this.” He covered your stomach again with his hand, protective now, spanning it almost hip to hip.

Your throat tightened. “I promise.”

His eyes crinkled, mouth curving up into that elusive but adored half-smile. “No fear.”

Tears prickled at this echo of the words he'd spoken to you on your first night with him. But now it was not a command to you, but a mutual agreement. An oath.

When you repeated him, it was into his lips. “No fear.”

 

 

* * *

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

 

_The mood around the humans' fire was alert. Carver had been swiftly bundled out of camp to spend a chilly night in the Jeep, and though the man was not necessarily missed, his absence was a persistent reminder of what prompted it._

“ _Tell me I'm not crazy,” Foster begged, rubbing his goatee distractedly. “We all saw that, right? I don't know much about apes but I know what that looked like, and what it looked like was...”_

“ _It doesn't matter.” Malcolm's eyes were pensive and conflicted. “Not to us, and not to what we're doing here.”_

“ _So just mind your own business is what you're saying.” Foster screwed up his face, grimacing. “But... how does that even work? A woman...! And a – ”_

“ _Maybe let's not discuss?” Ellie suggested, tipping her head to indicate a rather alarmed Alexander. “And there's another thing. The power should be on by tomorrow and when it is, she's coming back with us.”_

“ _Temporarily,” Malcolm added before anyone could butt in with an opinion._

“ _Shouldn't you run that past Dreyfus?” Kempt piped up._

“ _We will. Once we get there.”_

_Foster's shrug was dubious. “Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, I guess.”_

“ _I don't want anything said about her back home,” Ellie insisted. “As far as anyone else is concerned, this is a non-story. Got it?”_

_The fire popped as Foster and Kempt slowly nodded their assent. But Foster couldn't resist pointing out, “You'll have a hard time convincing Carver about that.”_

_Malcolm sighed. “We'll worry about Carver later.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

The gas station appeared like a mirage, an oasis of dreamy neon light glowing through the trees. The orange 76 ball spun lazily atop the sign. It should have been eerie but instead it was strangely comforting; bittersweet, like an old photograph. A folksy rock ballad warbled out of the speakers and through the grimy window Kempt danced beneath the fluorescent lights.

You rode behind Caesar, and though your cheek had been comfortable between his shoulder blades, you wiggled back and put a bit of space between you as he emerged from the trees and steered the horse to Malcolm. You didn't know what Ellie had told him, or how he'd reacted.

Until now you'd only seen their faces taut with concentration and stress but now, both radiated relief as bright as the gas station lights.

“It worked,” Malcolm said. “Well, at least here. We'll know when we get back to the city.”

“It did,” you told him. “We saw the lights from the village, that's why we came down.” They'd popped into being like a chain of orange stars on the horizon, a breathtaking reminder that humanity was still out there, holding on.

Malcolm perked up even further at your confirmation but there was an awareness, perhaps a bit of discomfort. He knew. Ellie looped her arm through his and smiled up at him. You wondered how long they'd been together. You'd overheard Alexander call her by name, so she wasn't his mother. Had they found each other in this post-apocalypse, like you and Caesar had?

Caesar extended his hand. “Trust.”

Malcolm was clearly touched, as he took Caesar's proffered hand and shook it.

“Tomorrow we will go to the city,” Caesar intoned. “For the doctor.”

Malcolm and Ellie exchanged a look that said more than words could.

“When you and the apes came,” Malcolm began, sounding like he was repeating something he'd rehearsed, “Everybody kind of... freaked out. It nearly turned into a full-blown panic. I'm not saying you shouldn't come with her, or that you can't. I understand why you want to. I'm just saying that people are scared.”

There was a near seismic shift in Caesar's demeanor; a stiffening, a near-crackle in the air around him. Even the horse side-stepped in response to the sudden tension on the reins.

Caesar's voice dropped almost to a bass. “Then Firefly cannot go.”

“Don't worry.” Gently you pulled on his arm, turning him in the saddle to see his face. “It'll be fine. It's not a good idea for you to be there if it'll cause problems, or make the situation look... how it is. You saw how Carver reacted.”

 _That is why I can't send you alone,_ he signed.

_But you trust Malcolm. You just told him so._

But Caesar was impassive, jaw stubborn in its set. _He is one. The humans are many._

_I want to go, Caesar. Are you going to forbid me?_

You'd felt so close to him last night, the feeling lingering throughout today, but now that intimate glow seemed worlds apart from Caesar's foreboding mood. The horse stamped again, swishing his tail as Caesar's gaze raked over you. _You carry something very precious to me._

 _It's mine, too,_ you rebutted. Malcolm and Ellie watched in uncertain silence as your hands flew. It must look incomparably bizarre, even silly, witnessing a woman and a chimpanzee having a domestic squabble. You'd be embarrassed if they could understand what you were both saying. _Do you think I'm being reckless? I did manage to not die before I met you._

“Nobody knows.” Ellie's voice was cautious in her interruption. “About the... the paternity. Me and Malcolm, that's all. So that part of it won't be an issue.”

“See?” you said in his ear. _Please. I want to see a doctor... sooner rather than later. Nothing about this needs any additional tension._

Caesar exhaled deeply, and you tried to douse your own flicker of frustration. His protectiveness was understandable but there was something new in his manner, something off... as if he didn't trust you, as if you were a person-shaped carrier for his cargo. Or maybe that had always been there and was just now bubbling to the surface. No, that seemed wrong; yet it left a sour taste in your mouth. You pushed it aside.

“We'll be heading out first thing,” Malcolm said, and you appreciated that he spoke directly to you rather than seeking Caesar's permission. “Can we count on you to be there?”

 _No fear,_ you reminded Caesar, and finally he gave in to a relenting nod.

“One day only,” he rasped.

Malcolm's eye contact was unwavering. “One day.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning dawned bright and brisk. Malcolm raised a hand in welcome when you rode into camp. Everyone was occupied loading up the last of their gear and yet in your self-consciousness you were convinced they noticed everything about you – your hands around Caesar's waist, the way he gripped your forearm for support as you dismounted. There had to have been talk after the incident on the beach.

“I'll be back tonight,” you assured Caesar, patting his horse's sleek neck. His eyes were only green slits beneath a heavy brow. He'd been quiet last night, introspective, and it hadn't abated.

“What, do you not believe me?” you said, half-teasing and half-uncertain. You'd packed a small bag with a water bottle, some food, and a rain jacket in case the skies decided to open up, and you fiddled awkwardly with one strap. But you dropped it when he extended his hand, and slid your own into his rough palm. He brushed a thumb over your knuckles, pursed his lips, and said nothing.

An engine sputtered to life behind you and turned, the odd atmosphere broken. Caesar did not ride away but remained watching from the edge of the clearing as you approached Ellie.

“I won't ride with Carver,” you said to her in a low undertone. Whether by design or just busy with his duties, he had his back to you as he loaded a stack of cases on one Jeep's roof rack.

“That's fair,” she nodded, and pointed to the other vehicle. “We're in this one.”

You tossed your bag in the backseat next to Alexander and climbed in after it. The back window framed Caesar, standing guard like a statue as Malcolm slid behind the wheel and started the ignition. As far as disagreements go, this one was pretty tame, but it didn't sit well. The circumstances of this trip were positive but right now it didn't feel that way.

Caesar grew smaller and smaller in the window as the Jeep bounced away down the uneven track. Eventually his color blended in with that of the dark tree trunks, and it became hard to make him out, until the road turned and he disappeared from view entirely.

 

 

* * *

 

 

With each passing year since the Flu, gas was harder and harder to come by, and you hadn't been in a car for a while. Even on the winding mountain rolled the trees rolled swiftly passed, lessening in density as the elevation decreased. The trip had taken the apes a half-day, but the Jeeps reached the bridge in barely an hour.

As you rolled through the Fort Point checkpoint you angled your face away from the window, on the off-chance the guards recognized you. But if they noticed an unexpected face in the back, they didn't acknowledge it, merely waved the little convoy through.

Though the skyscraper looming over the mall would be forever unfinished the parking garage behind had been completed, and all but overflowed with an assortment of vehicles and stockpiles of gasoline cans, tires, and spare parts. Malcolm, Kempt, Foster, and Carver – the latter still avoiding any proximity to you – stayed behind to unload while Ellie led you and Alexander on a sky bridge into the mall.

It was far different than you had envisioned looking from the outside in. It was... civilized. What was designed as a covered shopping arcade had been converted to an informal open marketplace, brimming with noise and a stereo playing faintly and people of all ages milling about. One had a crate, another a basket of food, still another rushing somewhere with a tangle of electronics. Vines wound up the storefront facades and the levels above seemed to be converted to apartments, joined by laundry lines strung across like Christmas lights.

“You guys really have it together,” you commented, rotating in place and staring in awe. You could readily imagine this place was some sort of intentional community, like a hippie commune from the old days. The occasional glimpse of a pistol holstered on someone's belt kind of threw off the vibe... but almost. Total silence was unusual at the ape colony – there was always someone hooting or chuffing, birds prattling, nighttime insects and the wind in the trees – but that was very different than this crush of voices and music, and the cacophony was overwhelming.

“I want you to stay with Alexander while I make some arrangements,” Ellie said meaningfully. “Get some food if you're hungry.”

“I had trail mix for breakfast,” the teen informed you, with a long-suffering but good-natured eye roll, as Ellie wove away through the crowd. “Want to hit up the cafeteria?”

What had been intended as a food court was now a cafeteria of sorts, with a main kitchen flanked by improvised stalls and storefronts with a variety of offerings. It was still early so most of those were shut but you absorbed the myriad scents and sounds as Alexander snagged two trays. There were some glances your way, foreheads scrunched as if trying to figure out if they recognized you, and you lowered your head as you shuffled through the line.

“Oh my God, bread,” you squealed, staring at the metal pans full of food as if gazing into a display of luxury jewelry. “And are those real eggs or powdered? Tell me they're real.”

“We have chickens,” Alexander was happy to confirm.

You didn't know who had cooked the breakfast, even if it was that Hank Carver mentioned, but to you it was sublime. The apes had no qualms about meal monotony but after so long, even simple toast and scrambled eggs were a marvel. While you shoveled it in Alexander ate at a regular speed, his lips contorted trying to keep a straight face, and when he finally couldn't hold it in any longer you let loose with a self-deprecating giggle, too.

Mid-laugh it hit like a cinder-block to the chest you why Caesar hadn't wanted you to come alone. He worried for your safety, yes, but you realized now that was only a slice of it. Apes and humans alike were social species, drawn naturally to their own kind. He'd been raised by humans... and he knew the pull you would feel being among them again.

It was going on a year since you made the conscious choice to separate from the last scraps of society but now, surrounded by cozy chatter and content faces, you could feel yourself sinking into the comfort of familiarity and belonging. Even if you had no ties to these specific people you shared their voice, their faces, and if not their individual backgrounds then an overarching story of humanity thus far.

Caesar's reluctance made a loose kind of sense now. Your heart constricted. Did he really think that of you? Was it just a passing insecurity, or was he genuinely concerned you might not want to return to him? You had to believe the former. It was impossible to imagine otherwise.

You dragged one tine of your fork on your tray's rim. Ten years on since the outbreak, was it too much to hope for an integrated society? A pipe dream, maybe, but surely apes and humans could at least tolerate each other's existence? Of course, that was a question as old as time. If millenniums of human history couldn't solve conflict and violence and war, you certainly didn't stand a chance.

You went back for seconds – Caesar would be pleased – and as you were cleaning your plate Ellie appeared, searching for you across the tables and beckoning.

“I'll take your tray,” Alexander said as you pushed your chair back. You wondered how much about you he'd deduced.

Up two levels, a big office suite had been converted to a medical center of sorts. With the beat up carpet and wood paneling, it looked nothing like one, aside from the neatly labeled plastic drawers of medications and supplies. As you followed Ellie down the narrow hall there was a father coming the opposite way, holding the chubby hand of a toddler with pigtails and a newly bandaged chin. She was the youngest child you'd seen in a couple years and you smiled at her as you passed.

When you reached the last office on the left Ellie knocked, not waiting before pushing open the door. It was sparse, lit only by a large window and furnished with an exam table and a large machine on a cart. A man with a round nose and thinning tufts of white hair fiddled with the machine, tapping out a few commands on a keyboard.

“This is Chuck,” Ellie introduced, as he greeted you with a jocular smile. “We work together up here. He used to be an OBGYN. I explained to him,” she continued, with a particular tone that made you look back to her, “How you told me that from what you recall, you had a family history of pregnancy complications.”

“Oh – that's right,” you confirmed, understanding. She'd handily made up a cover to account for anything unusual that might show up on the ultrasound. The fib would also ensure you received appropriate care, given the complications the apes had with their pregnancies and thus any that might arise in you. Clever.

“I'll leave you to it,” she said, and slipped out through the door.

You dropped your bag on the floor and perched on the edge of the table, the old vinyl creaking. “You can go ahead and lay back,” Chuck encouraged. “Shirt up and waistband down, please. This will be cold.” Despite his warning you sucked in a breath anyway as he squeezed a dollop of blueish gel on your lower abdomen. With the ultrasound transducer, a short wand shaped much like an electric razor, he smeared the sticky gel around just above your pubic bone.

“We haven't used this in a good long while, what with the generator restrictions,” Chuck chatted. “You're in luck the power just came on! We have a few other moms-to-be who will be happy to hear it's back in business, too.”

To distract yourself from the tangle of excitement and nerves you focused on the ceiling while he peered at the monitor. The textured drop tiles were yellowed with age, but still in surprisingly good condition. The overhead light fixture was broken but diffused sun came through the slatted blinds. You wondered what the view was like from here.

“I assume you want to see...?” With his free hand Chuck tugged on the cart so the screen faced you.

There it was. A gray bean, suspended in the black oval of your uterus. You may be a layman, and only distantly recalled seeing this procedure in movies, but regardless the fact that _something_ was there was clear to see. A swell of emotion lodged in your throat.

“That's... that's it?” you said, pointing, and he nodded and circled it with the computer cursor.

“Looks like we have a measurement of, hmm, 5 millimeters...”

“So tiny,” you murmured, staring in awe. Such a small thing, but incomprehensibly meaningful. “Is that good...?”

“That's a standard size for six weeks gestation, does that time frame sound right?”

“Yes,” you breathed, unable to help your spreading smile as he shifted the wand.

“This here is what we call the yolk sac, which is what supports an early stage fetus,” he explained. He paused, concentrating. “It does seem to be quite enlarged, which would usually not indicate a healthy pregnancy.”

That was okay. It wasn't a normal pregnancy – probably the first of its kind. What an overwhelming prospect. Imagine his surprise if he knew!

But Chuck's face was somber. “What we'd normally find is a little flutter, at the center, indicating a heartbeat. And I'm not seeing that.”

He was right. The gray blob was featureless and inert, even when he kept his hand still.

“Let me just... try...” he trailed off, sliding the transducer toward your other hip and rolling it in more firmly.

The only sound was the oblivious humming of the old machine. There was a thin layer of dust on top of the monitor, you noticed vaguely. You had the sudden urge to blow it away.

“No... no. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” He pulled the transducer away and just like that, the cross section of your body disappeared, leaving nothing but empty, fuzzy black. The crease of his forehead was regretful. “Unfortunately early miscarriages like this aren't uncommon. Sometimes there's a chromosomal issue that makes the fetus non-viable, but often it happens for no rhyme or reason. Have you been having any bleeding, cramping?”

You just blinked at him. “No.”

“That happens sometimes, too. It can take the body a little while to catch up and recognize the loss.”

The loss.

“Ellie told me you've been living on your own on the other side of the bridge.”

Technically that was correct. Obviously he hadn't been front and center to see you deliver the apes' warning, and Ellie must have concocted another white lie to explain your origin. “Yeah.”

“She also said you specifically wanted to get back tonight. And that would be fine, we would've been in and out of here in no time, but this changes things.”

“Huh?” It felt like you were listening to him speak underwater. “What does it have to do with going home?”

“The family history Ellie described puts you right in the high risk category. With a pending miscarriage I wouldn't be comfortable sending you somewhere without quick access to medical care.”

He cleaned off the transducer with a wet wipe as he talked. The cloth went round and round, cleansing and sterilizing any evidence of the gel that had let you see inside yourself. You stared up at the ceiling again.

“Most early miscarriages are much like a heavy period and are no particular cause for worry,” he clarified, pushing the machine back against the wall. “But with a family history of complications, excessive blood loss could be a concern. If possible I'd like you to stick around for a day or two to see if things start to progress naturally, and if not, there are routes we can take to stimulate the miscarriage. That way we can manage it in a controlled manner.”

There was a big brown water spot staining the corner of one tile.

“Do you need a minute?”

“A minute?” While you'd zoned out Chuck had extended his hand. His eyes were sympathetic. After a second you took it and let him pull you upright, swinging your feet over the edge of the table. “Yes. Yeah.”

As the door swung shut behind him you thought of the ape back on the mountain – Robin, you'd later learned her name was – and how she'd mourned when she'd lost her pregnancy, and how everyone had been there to comfort her.

You rubbed the toes of your boots together. A bit of dried mud flaked onto the faded carpet.

Was this karma, some sort of divine justice, for your initial negative reaction to the pregnancy? Cosmic retribution for your ingratitude?

Your skin felt too tight. Your nails dug into the vinyl. You wanted Caesar. Needed him – couldn't bear to tell him, to see his reaction – but needed his voice rumbling in his chest and the steadiness of his embrace. What would he say? What would he do?

You clenched your teeth and inhaled through your nose. Unfair, you said to yourself, unfair – ! That just as you were coming around, as you began to really believe everything would turn out okay, it was torn away from you.

Had the baby ever been truly alive? _Baby._ Your child. Your body had failed in this most basic function, couldn't protect and nourish what it was designed to, and it was completely out of your control.

There was a knock at the door and you recognized it as the same one Ellie had used. You could hardly catch your breath and you scrubbed back threatening tears with your sleeve.

“Yeah,” you croaked, as the door cracked open. Her features were lined with empathy, braid slipping down over her shoulder.

“I guess Chuck told you,” you muttered, voice thick.

“No,” she said softly. “It's not his place. But I could see it in his face, and when you didn't come out.”

“You're really perceptive,” you observed, in a toneless compliment. You picked up your bag again, not looking at her as you put your arms through the straps. It might as well have been a Herculean task.

“Dreyfus knows you're here now,” she explained. “He wants to see you.”

“What?” you said dazedly.

“Word travels fast. I've been trying to stay ahead of it, but...” She shrugged helplessly. “I just said you'd requested a doctor for some health problems. He didn't push it. But new people are very rare here, and you're even more of a special case because of the apes.”

As you sidled past she reached out and squeezed your arm. “I'm so sorry to do this to you now.”

Like a sleepwalker you fell into step beside her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dreyfus' office was in the corner of the building, lit from two sides with a view of a vine-covered brick wall, and packed with a dizzying array of papers and file boxes. The man himself was in his mid-fifties, with sandy-gray hair and a weathered, unassuming face, but his gaze was keen through wire-framed glasses as he examined you from his desk.

“So you're the one from the ape colony,” he began, spinning his chair to you. A single nod was the best you could do. Your facial muscles felt unresponsive and numb, as if too weary to provide the appropriate expressions. Judging from his discomfort you must look like a wreck. Everything since the med center was surreal. You almost expected people's features to start morphing, like a Dali painting.

“You, ah, you doing alright?” he queried.

You exhaled. “Sure.”

“I want to talk to you about them.” His manner wasn't forceful but you could tell it was not a request. He rose and dragged over a second chair, metal legs squeaking on the floor. “The apes.”

You had no secrets to trade, no details to tell him that would give him any kind of tactical advantage. Not that you'd share anything that would offer him a weakness to exploit. It would look better if you cooperated, though, and if you gave the right answers, relations between the two communities might improve. You had to focus now.

You managed to paste on something resembling a grin as you sat. “Sure.”

“Let's start with how many of them there are.”

“You saw them all the day we came," you said dully. "Four or five hundred.”

“How long have you been with them?”

“What's the date?”

“Thirteenth of March.”

Days and months. Time ticking past in numbers again. It was strangely concrete, like jolting awake from a dream; you weren't sure if you liked or not. “Five months, I think.”

“The whole winter, then? How do they live up there?”

His questions ran on and on as endless as a river. He wanted to know about population and colony structure, if there was disease or internal strife, and how advanced they were, and though your answers leaned toward generic they were, for the most part, honest. So far there was no reason to hide anything. Ellie sat on a misshapen armchair against the opposite wall, one leg tucked under her, a quiet observer but just as interested.

“Their alpha male,” Dreyfus said, scratching his stubble thoughtfully. “This... Caesar. Malcolm tells me he's trustworthy, can be reasoned with. What do you say to that? What's he really like?”

You felt Ellie's heightened attention as you considered your reply.

“He's a good leader,” you said eventually. “He wants to keep his people safe, and happy. He believes humans and apes can co-exist. He wants peace. You could call him a pacifist, actually.”

On its own track, your brain sought out the memory of Caesar's dense fur, the sleepy middle-of-the-night conversations, his hard-to-spot half smile and the span of his hands and the barely restrained euphoria on his face when you'd told him you were pregnant.

You swallowed the emotion and forced a steady, indifferent shrug. “He's like Malcolm says.”

Dreyfus leaned back in his chair, the plastic wheels clicking. “Is that why he let you stay?”

 _No, because he wanted to impregnate me. It was this whole deal, quid pro quo. I thought he was insane. But he had food and I was kind of attracted to him. It seemed like a decent idea at the time._ You held back the despondent laugh.

“They're not that different from us,” was what you said instead. And it was the truth. “Just think of them as... another culture. We have more in common than not.”

You thought of Ash's wave of goodbye this morning, and the bag of nuts Leaf had given you, tucked in the bottom of your backpack. Maurice's wise, broad face. Robin's grief. How Caesar had kissed you, so pure and profound, that first time by the hot spring.

You let out another breath, and this time it caught. “They may not be human but they're more like us than you can know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can't stay,” you said to Ellie as you left Dreyfus' office. The information you'd offered seemed to placate him but you could tell he still saw you as an enigma, and might not be satisfied for long. “Caesar's expecting me back tonight.”

“I understand,” she said. “But what Chuck said is true. Most pregnancies are straightforward, but I've seen what can happen when things go wrong and there's no help around.”

“But this is important. If I'm not back, he's going to think...” A rising lump in your throat prevented you from finishing your sentence.

“Think what?” Ellie pressed.

“That I wanted to stay,” you forced out. It wasn't worth crying about, but with your emotions already high it was all you could do to speak coherently. “It's so dumb. He knows I wouldn't do that! But I think deep down, where he doesn't even realize...”

“Your health is important, too.” Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose. “It does complicate things. There are rules about vehicle use,” she added, thinking out loud. “Taking you back tonight would've been one thing but sending a messenger, then another trip in a few days...” She paused. “Would Caesar come looking for you?”

“I don't know,” you admitted. You could envision dual scenarios as if on split-screens in your head: Caesar pragmatically assuming all was well and you'd be back when you could, or his protective instincts taking over like they had with Carver. And what of the remote but existent possibility that he'd assume the worst, that you'd left for good?

“Maybe,” you concluded. “I don't want to risk apes showing up if it's going to cause a scene.”

“Then we'll have to think of a solid excuse for Malcolm to go back without you.”

“You've been more helpful than you have any reason to be,” you blurted. “Thank you.”

Ellie's smile was wistful. “There have been times I hoped people would've done the same for me.”

“I wish I could do something in return.”

“I think you already have. When the apes first showed up, people were afraid. Terrified, even.” She toyed with the toggle on her jacket cuff. “But I think if they hadn't seen a human at the front, it would've been even worse.”

“That's the reason he wanted me to come,” you murmured, almost to yourself. Caesar the powerful, the practical, the stern – Caesar the peacemaker.

“I'm going to find Malcolm,” Ellie said, changing tack. “But we should go to my apartment first. It's not a good idea to wander around more than necessary in case someone recognizes you and starts asking questions.”

“Good idea,” you said faintly. It wasn't even noon – already you'd reverted to thinking in clock-time – and you had about as much energy as a wrung-out dishrag.

The lower stories of the skyscraper were a maze, a patchwork of finished suites and those framed but never dry-walled and water dripping from invisible holes to puddle on unfinished concrete floors.

“I don't think Dreyfus would go for giving you a room,” Ellie said, turning down a narrow corridor and digging in her back pocket for a key. “But we have a couch. There's a shower rotation but you can have one tomorrow if you want.”

The apartment was a series of small connecting rooms, with boxes and belongings stacked high and tidy to the ceiling; a potted plant, a big gilt mirror, knick-knacks on the desk. The mismatched set dressing of someone else's life.

“Caesar can't know,” you stammered, stomach lurching. “Tell Malcolm. He can say I'm fine, say the doctor just wants to monitor me to make sure everything's healthy. Just don't tell Caesar why.”

Ellie's nod was emphatic.

With her departure the hush pressed in on your ears. You weren't sleepy but you were exhausted to your bones. Sinking onto the couch with your head tipped back on the cushion you felt you wouldn't mind being absorbed by it. The space was unfamiliar but comfortable; worn in, and well-loved. It was a home.

What made a home? Was it knowing every dimension of a place, familiar with each item and furnishing and where it came from and where it belonged? Was it a feeling? The exhale, the calm, the immediate weight off your shoulders when you walk in through the front door and are utterly relaxed, at ease, and safe? Did such a place exist for you? A week ago you would've said yes.

You'd laced your fingers over your abdomen, a habit you'd developed lately, but decided you didn't like them there, and rubbed the heel of your hands into your aching eyes. These questions could wait.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Firefly. Wake up.”

“What?” You jerked upright, groggy and disoriented.

Ellie knelt next to the couch, her blue eyes big and nervous. “You need to come with me right now.”

“What's wrong?” you demanded, stuffing your feet into your boots and tying the laces into haphazard knots. You barely recalled taking them off. “What's happening?”

The hallway was empty but still her response was hushed. “There's an ape here.”

“Are you serious? Who?” A stupid question, of course she wouldn't know one from another. It wasn't Caesar or she would've recognized him.

“I don't know.” She was missing her jacket, and there were smudges on her shirt that looked decidedly like blood. “Malcolm and Alexander went to the colony but they got halfway there and found an ape on the side of the road. He was on the verge of bleeding out so they decided to bring him back here instead of continuing on.”

“Do you know what happened?” you badgered her as you hurried side by side. She took a different route than the one that brought you here, down a poorly lit stairwell.

“He - or she, he I think - was shot.” Your footsteps echoed off the high concrete walls. You were both out of breath now and her words were choppy. “He's barely conscious. I don't think we had anything to do with it. But he had a gun on him.”

You emerged onto a back alley, lined with crooked towers of crates and scattered miscellaneous junk. It must be late afternoon by now because the light had changed, streaming in golden ribbons over the cracked asphalt.

“We couldn't risk anyone seeing him,” Ellie offered by way of explanation as she lead you into the office building next door. Already you were hopelessly turned around but her pace was brisk and purposeful, winding through the dilapidated lobby and down another stairwell into the basement, lit only by a handful of flickering bulbs. She made a beeline for a half-open door with a placard reading “authorized personnel only” hanging from one screw.

Inside the access room Malcolm leaned against the wall, starting and straightening as you entered. Alexander remained sitting, gangly legs stretched out on the dusty ground, blinking up at you. Next to him were gauze wrappers and the first aid kid in disarray and a wadded up gray towel, original color indeterminable, now soaked with near-black blood.

Curled in a large dark heap next to a long-ago dismantled boiler was the unmistakable form of an ape. Even facing the wall as he was you could see the blood matting the fur of his haunch, glistening in the low light. His upper thigh had been tightly wrapped but even though the bandage must be fresh, already it was stained the palest pink.

He twitched as he lay, shifting his head restlessly, and as you drew near you sucked in a breath at the unmistakable under-bite, the gnarled scar slashing over one closed eye.

It was Koba.

 

 

* * *

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

 

 

_Caesar stared out into the pattering rain shower. He sat motionless under the overhang of his cave, and though the occasional stray droplet blew in to hiss and pop in the fire pit, he did not notice._

_It was late, long past nightfall. Few others were about. But as if he'd been waiting for this quiet moment Maurice lumbered in, sitting down heavily by Caesar's side._

_**You are worried,** the orangutan signed without preamble. _

_**I don't feel right about this. Where is Koba?** Caesar returned. _

_Maurice spread his palms._

_Caesar's brow grew even more taut. **Where is Firefly? Why is she not back as the humans promised?**_

_**You think something is wrong?** _

_**I don't know. But I don't like it.** _

_Perhaps it was when Caesar was very, very still like this that he was at his most intimidating. His gaze out into the night was laser-focused._

“ _I want her back.” His voice was like sandpaper. **She may be a human, but you know... that to me, she is...** He was not profuse with his emotions and trailed off before he could formulate an expression, but his feelings were clear nonetheless._

“ _The reason she went with them... was to see a human doctor.” His next words were quiet. “She carries my child.”_

_Maurice blinked in disbelief, processing._

_**I have told no one else,** Caesar continued. _

_**I do not think the reaction will be bad,** Maurice offered. **Apes like Firefly more than you realize.**_

_The faintest of smiles touched Caesar's lips but disappeared as if it had been only a mirage, replaced again by conflicted solemnity._

_**What is it that you fear?** Maurice was as perceptive as ever. **That she has been hurt somehow? Or that she chooses not to return?**_

_Caesar's shoulders stiffened, jaw working._

_**Do you think she would do that?** It was phrased as a genuine question, and Maurice scratched his chin thoughtfully._

_Caesar's did not respond right away, but then his jaw snapped shut, and chest swelled. “I do not.”_

_Maurice shrugged, as if the matter meant nothing to him; but his eyes were knowing, as if he'd had no doubt of what the answer would be. **Then if it were me, the path ahead would be simple.**_

_Maurice let the conversation lapse into pensive silence. He was good at that. But while such a state was comfortable to him, to his companion, it only stirred up more of his already churning thoughts._

 

 

* * *

 

 

There was a plain plastic clock on the wall of Ellie and Malcolm's apartment. Not long after the hour hand swung around to 2 AM, you began to bleed.

You'd been tossing and turning, and you thought it was just the unfamiliar surroundings and narrow couch and distracting tick of the clock. But your lower abdomen began to twinge, and then to cramp, and early the next morning Ellie found you curled up on the bathroom floor trying not to cry from the pain.

She hugged you, and provided you the necessary supplies and an orange bottle of painkillers the size of grapes, and wisely left you alone.

The concept of the miscarriage had been nebulous and surreal before but now your body was confirming it to you in a violent fashion, expelling that which no longer lived. You wondered, not for the first time, whether there was something wrong with the pregnancy or if losing it was mere happenstance, a fluke. Maybe it was better to not know.

Once the pill had muted the contractions to a dull background ache, you pushed to your feet and discreetly made your way to the building next door.

The bullet had gone clean through Koba's leg, and though Ellie had vacillated on whether he'd need a blood transfusion, luckily she'd decided against it. You weren't sure how the logistics of that would've worked. You'd both decided that though there was an off chance he might be discovered, it was balanced by the benefit of keeping him close, so no suspicion was aroused by going back and forth to a building further away.

Koba was not twitching as he had been last night but slept lightly, stirring in a tangle of towels and blankets. You sat out of arm's reach, back against the wall of the access room. He couldn't do much harm in this state, but he might wake up disoriented, and you couldn't be too careful. You'd never seen him like this, looking so ordinary. In another life, one where both his face and soul hadn't been marred by the doings of humans, he might have been handsome.

“Koba.”

Your voice is placating, but loud enough to wake him. His good eye cracked open, lethargic and then increasingly focused, and he jerked when he recognized you. He shifted upright, wincing, propping on one arm and peering around.

 _What happened?_ you signed, once his gaze landed on you. “You had my pistol. I checked it, there's a bullet missing. Did you shoot somebody? Who shot you? Is Caesar alright?”

Koba remained silent, brow settling into its customary glower. You couldn't tell whether he was still distrustful and gauging the worth of speaking to you, or just processing the best way to answer your barrage of questions.

 _Caesar... is fine,_ he signed at last. _Something wrong with gun._

“What do you mean?”

“Was... me.” He looked angry in a way that you recognized as deep embarrassment. _The gun. It was an accident._

The weapon must have misfired. You'd never actually used it, and who knows how long ago it was last cleaned. It was a surprising and more innocent explanation than you'd expected, and a fraction of your stress dissipated.

“Why did you have it? What were you coming here for?”

Koba's breathing was heavy, shoulders hunched as if to protect the last shreds of his pride. _To spy on the humans. To steal guns. I took yours in case I needed it._

“You came alone?” You thought of his ever-present friends Grey and Stone, and signed their names in question.

Koba's weary features darkened with resentment. _They would not follow. They do not trust humans either, but said I should give up and stop looking for trouble._

“What did you think you were going to find?”

Koba showed only his jutting profile, refusing to dignify you with a response.

You adjusted your position, stiff with discomfort and wishing you had some kind of heat pad, or at least could just go straight back to bed. “I don't have anywhere to be. I can sit here all day until you answer.”

“Humans... cannot... be trusted,” he gritted out. _I must find a way to convince Caesar. Something to show him. Proof._

“And what if there isn't any?” You scuffed a toe on the bare concrete floor. “It was humans who brought you back here, and patched you up. They didn't have to do that. They could've left you to bleed out.”

 _You are hurt, also._ His one-eyed stare was shadowed with suspicion. _I can smell it. The blood is not all mine. Did humans turn on you, too?_

“No.” Your word may not have been steady, but it was emphatic. You felt your cheeks begin to heat, facial muscles ticking through a range of expressions, and you squeezed your eyes shut to force back tears. When you reopened them Koba was bemused, and wary.

You raked a hand over your scalp. _I'm pregnant,_ you signed, without looking at him. _Was. Miscarriage._

When you chanced a look back at Koba his face was disbelieving.

“It worked only to... not work,” you muttered. You pretended to fiddle with your hair again while attempting to get yourself under control. You'd always tried to seem confident in front of Koba, sensing that whatever minuscule drop of respect he had for you, if any at all, he'd have even less if you displayed weakness.

But instead of disdain he looked uncharacteristically pensive and distant. Stricken, almost. When your eyes met he jerked his head away gruffly, that unexpected flicker of softness hidden again.

You crossed your arms.

“You don't have to like me, Koba, but we want the same things.” You made the signs you'd seen Caesar use before. _Home. Family. Future._

“You... are not... my family.” 

“Fine,” you bit out, stung by his instant rejection of your overture. You weren't sure why you bothered. “But I'm not your enemy, either.”

You stood, wincing a little as you looked down at the surly bonobo. “And obviously you can barely move, so you'll just have to put up with being here. Are you hungry?” You didn't know if Koba would willingly eat human breakfast food but you still had the bag of nuts back in the apartment. He gave no reply, and you shrugged, turning on your heel. “I'll get you something.”

You paused after exiting into the alley, shoving your hands in your pockets and letting out a deep breath. It was still early and no one was around, though you could hear a truck engine somewhere in the distance. You craned your neck up to squint at the unfinished skyscraper, spiking into the blue sky. You should probably visit the doctor again and let him know that you'd started to miscarry. It was probably better this way, that your body did it naturally, rather than having to induce it with some expired pill.

You had to talk to Malcolm again, about going back to the colony. You felt guilty for asking so much of him and Ellie but now that Koba was here too, Caesar would have to be told. Your prolonged absence was one thing, but add to that a member of the ape council having gone missing, and it created a circumstance that the apes surely would not brush off. Maybe if Chuck determined the bleeding was normal you could go home, too.

Home. Deep in your introspection, the word had come to mind without realizing it.

You were still deciding whether it felt right when human arms grabbed you from behind. Instinctively you fought, twisting in the person's grasp, and before you could cry out a hand smothered it and you were dragged back into the office building.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Christ, McVeigh,” Carver muttered as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. “Be a little more gentle, won't you?”

This McVeigh had straggly sandy hair and an odd sneer, a contortion of disgust and curiosity as the pair of them wrestled you to the floor. You wondered what Carver had told him to get him to agree with this. You could imagine.

The suite they'd hauled you to was maybe five stories up – in the struggle up the stairwell you'd lost track. It was an older building, musty and still outfitted with outdated radiators, and it was to one of these Carver cuffed you to.

“You have to rethink this,” you pleaded, appealing to both men. “Let me go. Please!”

“I can't do that.” Carver looked almost apologetic. “Listen, no hard feelings. It's kinda necessary. You were stuck out there for a long time, and I've seen how it can mess with someone's brain. You think you got attached to those animals but you're confused. You gotta come back to your senses.”

“That is absolutely crazy,” you hissed. You wanted to try to reason with them instead of ranting or begging but the adrenaline made it difficult to concentrate. “You need to let me go right now. Ellie's going to be looking for me, Malcolm – ”

“Is going to think you went back to the _apes,_ ” McVeigh interjected, all but spitting the last word. “We'll say we saw you leave. I got a buddy at the armory who will back me up if I tell him to.”

You sucked in a lungful of air and screamed but it was aborted by Carver's hand clapping over your open mouth again.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he cajoled. “Nobody can hear you from here. You'll blow your vocal cords out and no one but the rats will hear a thing.”

He waited until your jaw muscles slackened before removing his hand, sighing and rocking back on his heels. “I'm not gonna hurt you. You just need some time to come around.”

From his canvas bag he pulled out a bottle of water and a tattered magazine, placing both within reach. He dusted off his knees as he stood. “I'll be back later with something to eat.”

“You have to know this is ridiculous,” you called after the men as they turned their backs on you. McVeigh was jittery, Carver's strides brisk with purpose. Panic tightened your chest. “Why are you doing this?”

Turning, Carver shot you a smile that was probably intended to be sympathetic, but only registered as condescending.

“Because there aren't enough of us left to not look out for each other.”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears as they went out into the hallway. As the double doors swung shut behind them you screamed again, and it was less a call for help than an outburst of rage.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Whoever decided to keep old magazines should be publicly scolded. Who wanted to flip through page after page of banal news from another life, to look at slick advertisements for forgotten TV shows and the glossy smiles of long-dead celebrities?

The handcuff had enough slack that you could lay on the floor, heedless of the dust and scattered yellowed papers, watching the squares of light from the windows cast longer and longer on the ceiling as the day went on. The old desks and chairs and filing stood like silent monuments from another time. There were empty spots, though, lighter patches on the carpet where furniture had once been. This building must have been picked over long ago and anything useful carted next door to the mall.

Footsteps jolted you from your reverie and you sat upright as Carver entered with a plastic grocery bag. You watched warily as he approached and squatted, handing it to you. Inside was a thin blanket, a sandwich, and another water bottle.

“How are we feeling?”

“Imprisoned.” You knew he wasn't aware of the pregnancy, so he was just asking if you'd had a change of heart. He must really be deluded to think that holding someone against her will for a few hours would have the desired effect.

He observed as you started on the sandwich – peanut butter and homemade bread – and took a swig from the bottle.

“Do you think he's going to show up? Your ape?” He wasn't even being nasty about it, more genuinely curious. “Do you think he's going to come for his prize?”

You didn't answer, pretending to chew longer. Carver rested his flannel-clad forearms on his knees, contemplating. His position was an unintentional and sick mimicry of Caesar.

“I don't think so.” His conclusion carried the barest trace of sympathy. “He's probably got himself a little chimp honey already. He's just an animal. That's how animals are.”

“We're animals too, you know.”

Carver's eye took on a cold glint. He snorted softly, shaking his head, as if you'd disappointed him.

“I guess we'll try again tomorrow.”

He uncuffed you to let you relieve yourself – you considered making a break for it, but he held the power in this situation (not to mention a gun on his hip) and you didn't want to piss him off with a futile escape attempt. There was nothing in the bathroom that could help you, no sharp objects or forgotten bobby pins to spring the cuffs, only a dripping tap and crumpled paper towels on the floor and dried up hand soap. There was an old feminine hygiene dispenser, mercifully, and though you certainly had no quarters you were able to pry open the bottom to retrieve the contents.

The bleeding was increasing. You didn't know what level was acceptable. Blood never made you queasy before, whether from a period or from a wound, but this was different and you crushed the lurch of nausea. Coming out of the stall, you caught sight of your reflection – your eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, your hair a mess.

“It's not so bad,” Carver muttered gruffly as he reattached you to the radiator, avoiding your teary gaze. “Once you come around you'll realize it's for the best. You'll like it here. 'Kay?”

After he left you curled up on your side. The cramping was getting worse now, spiking through your hips and lower back. You still had the pain pills in your pocket and you dug the bottle out, shaking one into your palm. Ellie had said once every six hours and it had definitely been that.

What would she think, upon being told you'd left? You don't think she would've really tried to stop you if you'd refused to stay. Encouraged you not to go, maybe, but left the choice up to you.

The duality of humankind: Ellie's kindness, soft-spoken but firm, asking nothing in return. Malcolm's humility and perseverance. Carver's arrogance, his fear, his close-minded hostility. Maybe people were neither good nor evil, they just... were. Blank slate. Clean and ready for each individual to write on.

Perhaps you belonged nowhere. In no space – neither among humans or apes or on your own – was there an empty slot with your name on it. Anyone's name. It was up to you to make your choice and hold to it.

You had nothing but time to think about it, but it was too draining, and you let your mind wander instead along more mundane and superficial routes. You thought vaguely of meadows, and eggs on toast, and if anyone still had Twix bars and if they'd still even taste the same, and the way both ape and human eyes crinkled at the corner when they smiled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When night fell you slept fitfully. From navel to mid-thigh hurt, wracked with cramps. It wasn't time for your next dose but you wanted, needed, to numb the pain. You could deal with stiff muscles from the hard floor, a shoulder that ached in its socket from the position it had been forced into... but the agony of this miniature labor, your body ridding itself of the never-was child, was unbearable.

You screwed open the lid to the pill bottle and took one. It didn't work fast enough so you popped another, choking it down with a small sip of water. Your head throbbed from dehydration. Carver left enough water but you didn't want to risk having to use the bathroom before he returned.

You hadn't worn a watch in a long time. It seemed close to morning but it was hard to tell in this silent stale building, without no birds to gauge the coming of dawn by. Another liminal space, somewhere out of time and standard reality. The pain receded but even medication couldn't touch the bone-deep yearning for a nest with soft pelts and a snug round shape and a particular warm, solid, and reassuring occupant.

The building was years past having been heated, and beneath the scratchy blanket you wrapped your one free arm around your knees and shivered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You awoke to sirens.

You sat up blearily, handcuff clinking on the radiator. Judging from the light it was maybe eight in the morning. Emotion churned in your gut. The alarm could only mean one thing: apes were here. Had to be. What else?

Even if you could've stood up, the windows faced the wrong direction. There would be nothing but a sea of abandoned buildings, stretching as far as the eye could see. You wanted to run out into the street but you were trapped and useless, the handcuff digging into your chafed wrist. The pills had left you groggy, almost blissfully so, but now you couldn't focus.

Someone would find you. Someone would have to figure it out. It might take time but eventually... right?

The sirens stopped and you strained to listen, to hear anything at all. But you were too high up, too far away, and you felt disconnected and desperate. You wouldn't let yourself cry, it would just make your headache worse and deep down you were afraid that once you started you wouldn't be able to turn it off.

You drank several big gulps of water, sating your parched mouth. Maybe it was just the crackle of the old plastic bottle but you'd swear you could hear noises outside. You stilled, listening. Yes; there were footsteps outside. For all you knew it was Carver hurrying back to check on his captive when everyone else was distracted but there was a chance it was someone else. And it didn't matter whether it was human or ape.

“Hello?” you shouted, clanking your handcuffs on the radiator pipe. “In here, I'm in here!”

The doors of the office burst open and, with a shock through your drugged haze, you recognized Blue Eyes and a limping Koba. You just stared at each other before Blue Eyes put down his spear and loped on all fours over to you.

“Why did you come?” you slurred as he crouched by you, looking you over with surprise and concern. “Who's here? What's happening?”

Straining, teeth showing, he snapped the handcuffs right through the chain and helped you to your feet.

“No... time.” This was the first time you'd heard him speak aloud and the phrase was barely understandable. His voice was raspy but higher than you would've guessed. “Come.”

Though you were aware of your surroundings as you walked three abreast down the hall, it was as if you were moving through a fog. Koba hampered your pace. His bandage was starting to bleed through. He'd come up here, led Blue Eyes to you, and he didn't have to. He didn't acknowledge you but his actions said more than words could.

“What's happening?” you repeated, rubbing your sore wrist beneath the remaining cuff.

 _The human leader told us you left, but my father did not believe him,_ Blue Eyes signed with hand, the other firmly gripping his spear. It used to be near impossible for you to understand one-handed sign. _The humans from the dam took us to Koba. He heard your struggle yesterday._

“Caesar's here?”

Blue Eyes frowned, and nodded, as if it was a nonsensical question. “He came... for you.”

It felt like gliding as you spiraled down the stairwell, six sets of stairs down, and into the lobby. Blue Eyes must have come in through the alley entrance because he couldn't figure out the revolving door, getting his spear caught on the frame, and some drunk part of your mind found it funny as you spilled into the fresh morning air.

Any small amount of humor vanished now as you squinted in the light and turned towards the mall.

In the intersection were three apes on horseback. To the back, the ever faithful Rocket was armed while Maurice held the reins of what was presumably Blue Eyes' horse. Both were alert, rigid in their saddles, attention trained forward.

In front, right up at the mall steps on his stallion, was Caesar.

He wore no paint, and carried no spear. Nonetheless you'd never seen him so terrifying. Every strand of fur on his body bristled and his posture radiated raw and undiluted aggression. His horse wore a path in the dust, stamping and pawing, black tail held high like a banner as its rider wheeled him back and forth.

He was menacing. He was magnificent. He was here; here for you.

Dreyfus and Malcolm stood on the bottom step, their voices muffled by distance but unmistakably uneasy. There were people with guns behind them but Malcolm gestured for them to get back, to lower their weapons, and at Dreyfus' nod they complied, but barely.

Blue Eyes hooted to his father as you approached, the sound echoing. Human heads pivoted, and Caesar spun his horse sharply. Even from across the intersection his stare was fierce to the point of being almost unrecognizable.

Dreyfus went pale at the sight of you, disheveled and with half a handcuff dangling from your wrist.

“She wasn't like that when I last saw her,” he said bluntly; half sincere confusion, half self-defense.

Caesar's horse sprang forward at his urging, hooves ringing on the concrete as it whinnied and danced under its rider's agitated guidance. The animal charged up and Caesar leaped to the ground, reins left to dangle lopsided.

“Hiii.” Your greeting was drawn out, a bit dazed. Caesar's eyes were unusually large, the black of his pupils almost eclipsing the vibrant green. He ran rough, possessive hands over your shoulders, lips parting as if to speak; nothing came out. Though you'd only be apart two days you swayed into him, unsteady on your feet, and he closed the gap for you to sink into his solid chest. His fur was slightly damp with sweat, as if he'd been riding hard, and he smelled crisp like pine.

This: this was home. It wasn't a place, or a set of belongings, or even where you laid your head at night. It was a feeling. This feeling, with this person. The sense of rightness, the safety in his arms, as if for this brief moment there was only you, and him, and his pounding heartbeat under your ear, and not a thing in the universe mattered. Even with everyone watching.

He broke the embrace too soon, pulling back to search your face. His brow furrowed at your altered state, fingers drifting over the handcuff. His eyes narrowed to slits of white-hot rage, lip curling up to reveal fearsome fangs. His demeanor was deadly as he swiveled to the humans, an ominous growl bubbling up in his throat.

“What have you done to her?” Caesar's demand was low and feral; inhuman.

“I'm fine.” You reached for his arm, wanting nothing more than to lean back into him and pretend the outside world had melted away. “I'm not injured. I'm just on pain medication. Too much.”

He dragged his gaze back to you, chest rising and falling in agitation.

“Pain... medication? What for?”

You ignored him, clutching at his forearms for support but staring past him at Dreyfus and Malcolm.

“Do you know what Carver did? He and his buddy. Greasy guy, McVeigh?” You threw an arm out behind you, pointing up at the office building. “They locked me on the sixth story. I never left the city. You're all so afraid of apes, but you didn't think to look to your own.”

A bemused murmur rippled through the assembled humans. Caesar was vibrating with fury. You'd seen him angry, and you'd seen him protective, but this overrode anything you'd witnessed before. On their horses, Rocket and Maurice shifted, sensing their leader's mood. Rocket switched his big spear from one shoulder to the other. Koba made a guttural noise behind you.

The humans looked back and forth to each other, guns at the ready. Caesar was only one ape but you could see him through their eyes: hulking, unpredictable, dangerous. Malcolm's hands were spread but unmoving; behind him, Ellie stood tense and distressed, taking in the scene. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. This stand-off in the intersection was gasoline-soaked kindling and Caesar, the lit match, waiting to drop.

“Caesar. Caesar.” You took his face, turning him back to you. His eyes were frighteningly intense, deadly with single-minded purpose. “No fighting. Please. Once it starts it's going to be impossible to stop.”

He shrugged you off, rounding on the humans. Rifle muzzles shifted, metal snicking in hand.

“The men... who hurt you.” Caesar's aura all but hummed with anger, as if wanting to tear away from your restraining touch. “They must pay.”

“Yes. But don't punish them all.” Caesar took several more strides towards the steps and you got ahead of him but he was a tidal wave, an unstoppable force; you grabbed his arm again. Your vision swam but you blinked it away. “They helped me. They helped Koba.”

He slowed his momentum. If the humans were antsy before they were on a knife-point now, and you took the opportunity to sidle between them and Caesar, your back to him.

“If someone fires, and Caesar is hurt, the other apes will come for revenge.” You pitched your voice until it carried. It was easier, than it had been that first day; now you were afraid for the simmering violence but not of speaking out. “It'll be a bloodbath on both sides. And it doesn't have to happen.”

You were starting to see spots now. That didn't seem right. You wanted to point out Koba's bandage to Caesar, to explain who had cared for him; to tell him about Chuck the doctor who had treated you kindly. That's right... Caesar didn't know about the miscarriage. You swallowed.

Neither side seemed willing to relent but you grew more nervous as the seconds ticked by. It would take only one jumpy, trigger-happy moron in the upper mezzanine to pop off a round and the situation would spiral out of control. 

“Civilization as we know it is gone but that doesn't mean we can't be civilized.” You still spoke loudly but aimed your reminder primarily at Dreyfus. You didn't know the man, didn't know his facial expressions, but you felt sure the purse of his lips was one of reluctant acknowledgment.

Everything you'd experienced since the outbreak seemed to narrow down to this pinpoint of time. You'd tried to swear off humanity but the spark of hope had never died, the faith in the potential for goodness in your own kind; yet if this went south now you don't know if that spark could ever truly be rekindled. 

“It doesn't have to be that way.” Your voice felt thick; sounded thicker. As if it was somebody else's. There was so much you needed to express but the sentences weren't forming. “It doesn't...”

The last thing you remembered was crumpling into Caesar's arms.

 

* * *

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

 

 

_Caesar sank to his knees, carefully lowering Firefly to the concrete. Tucking her into the crook of his arm he stared at her ashen face and lolling head._

“ _What is wrong with her?” Each word was gritted out with near-perfect enunciation, forceful and seething with anger. His eyes were mere slits as he snapped his head up to stare the humans down. “What have you done?”_

_Ellie shoved past others to rush down the steps. At her approach Caesar pitched forward onto all fours over Firefly and growled, baring fangs, daring anyone to come near. Ellie halted in her tracks. Behind her the humans shifted anxiously. But his snarl faded, jaw set but eyes plaintive, and she took a tentative knee by his side._

“ _She might just be dehydrated.” Ellie lifted Firefly's limp wrist to check her pulse. “I can't believe Carver. I knew he was an asshole, but this?” She fell silent as she counted the beats, forehead creasing. “When she arrived here she was... a bit under the weather, so this could very well be just an extension of that – ”_

“ _She was well when she left me!”_

_Ellie flinched at his roar. The humans on the steps stirred, nervous and unsettled, trying to pin down exactly what was happening._

“ _I promise those who have done this will be held accountable.” Dreyfus took a cautious step forward as he spoke up, alarm and confusion warring on his lined face._

“ _Caesar, I need to take her inside.” Ellie's face was uncertain but pleading. “Her blood pressure's low. She needs a doctor. Medicine.”_

“ _Do you think I will let you have her again?” Caesar glanced behind him to catch Blue Eyes' and Koba's attention, jerking his head to the horses. He rose and, despite the rage blazing on his face, he lifted Firefly with infinitesimal care._

“ _You can't leave, please,” Ellie said. “This could be serious, and the help she needs isn't out there in the woods.”_

_Caesar's glare was daunting, holding Firefly close against his chest as he weighed his options. There were only two._

_After a heavy pause his mouth drew taut, almost into a hiss, and he took in a deep breath._

“ _Take... us.”_

_As the massive primate entered the compound the crowd of humans behind the door parted like the Red Sea, muttering and standing on their toes to peer over those in front of them. With such a formidable and animalistic expression on his face, and the fur rippling up over his broad back, one might have thought he meant to do serious harm to anyone present... had it not been for the unmistakable protective tenderness with which he cradled the unconscious woman in his arms._

 

 

* * *

 

 

The back of your hand pinched. And itched. Your eyes felt sticky as you cracked them open, squinting through the thick fog of sleep.

You recognized the ceiling tiles. Yellowed and spotted brown with age. The medical center.

Adrenaline spiked as the memories rolled in, one by one, and you tried to sort them out in proper order. You could recall being carried, as if through a cloud. You remembered the stand-off in the intersection. Your mouth felt so dry.

This specific room was unfamiliar to you, brilliantly lit by large windows on two walls. It must have once been a corner office. Your hand felt leaden, and as you touched it with the other you recognized the tubing and tape of an IV. Why did you need an IV?

You felt stiff and you tried to adjust from your curled up position, stretching your feet out, but something was blocking your full range of movement. You pushed yourself up on one elbow, head pounding. At the foot of your lumpy cot, leaning against the wall with one forearm on his knee, was Caesar.

“Hi.” Your greeting was hoarse but his posture changed immediately when he heard it, eyes flicking to yours. He examined you thoroughly, and when you tried to sit up fully he took your hands to help, careful of the IV line. Black spots floated into view and you squeezed your eyes shut until they dissipated.

“Something is wrong with you.” Caesar's voice was reserved. “I can tell. Ellie... she will not say. She is very... stubborn.”

Unable to look at his concerned face anymore, you stared down at the sheet. It was worn soft by many washes, sprigged with dainty blue flowers. You'd been partly undressed, left only in a t-shirt and underwear. You wondered if they'd kicked Caesar out while working on you. That must have been a feat.

Your brain was stalling, not wanting to confront the unavoidable. What felt like a chasm waited before you.

“I lost the baby.” Your features crumpled and tears blurred your vision. Caesar sat motionless and nonreactive as he processed. A sob choked you, as if his presence had ripped the makeshift bandage off the gaping emotional wound.

“I saw it on the ultrasound,” you babbled, incoherent words boiling up inside you. “It was there, it existed. But it was just... gone...”

Your voice cracked, and without a word he drew you into his lap. The tears flowed unstoppable now, a broken dam, and you clung to his neck and cried. You hadn't meant to stuff your grief down but now you were all but imploding with it. The stress and worry and enormous weight of the past few days poured out into his fur, your limbs wracked and shaking with sorrow, his body a solid anchor. His head bowed over yours, his breath coming in shallow puffs on your hair; not moving, not speaking, just holding you until you were ready.

At last you pulled back, gulping, and though his jaw was rigid his gaze was glassy.

“I'm sorry, Caesar.”

He surfaced from his stupor. “You... apologize?”

“I know how important this was to you.”

He looked stricken. “You think I would hold you responsible? That a... pregnancy matters more to me than you?”

“No, it's just... it was going to be your future. Apes' future.”

Caesar shaped one large palm to your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. His eyes were soft and heavy-lidded even in sadness.

“A child... I will always wish for that. But I can no longer see a future without you in it.” He lifted his brows, commanding your attention, needing you to listen and hear him. “When I look forward, I see _you_ at my side. Do you understand?”

Fresh tears tracked down your cheeks and you turned your face into his shoulder. Even though it had only been two days, you hadn't realized how much you'd missed him until you were in his arms again. Hadn't quite known the level of comfort and reassurance he brought you, how irrevocably twinned your hearts now were, like two parts of the same organ beating in different bodies.

“Now that you are awake, I will get the doctor,” Caesar murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You made a sound of protest as he disentangled himself from you. “I must. Your health is... important to me.”

When Chuck entered a few minutes later, it was without Caesar. You wouldn't have minded, but at the same time, you appreciated this gesture towards your privacy. It was almost humorous, imagining him waiting out there, vastly out of place. You wondered how the rest of the community was dealing with it, and where the other apes were.

“How are you feeling?” Chuck prompted.

“Tired. I have a headache.”

“You were beginning to hemorrhage but I think we got a handle on that,” he explained, shutting off the drip to your IV line. “A bit dehydrated, too, but nothing to worry about. I can remove that now,” he added, indicating the needle in your hand.

He seemed almost chipper, as if there wasn't a very large and intimidating ape looming just outside. Was he really not fazed, or was he putting on a good show? 

“Am I okay to get up?" you queried. "Can I get out of bed?”

“Sure, if you feel up to it.” He discarded the needle in a trash bin and indicated your clothes draped over a chair in the corner. “Take it easy, though. I'll give you some iron supplements, and you'll want to keep hydrated.”

“Chuck,” you pressed. “Be honest with me. What's happening out there?”

His facade slipped, just a little, showing ambivalence. The look he gave you was not quite certain.

“There's a lot of talk,” he said evasively.

“Not all polite, I bet.”

He pondered that, made as if to speak, then reconsidered. He shrugged instead. “It's not my job to judge people. It's my job to take care of them.”

You could respect that, you decided as he left. A desire for acceptance was natural, but you couldn't expend energy troubling yourself with what people thought of you and Caesar. You only cared that you were treated with decency while here, and that the apes were left alone. You weren't sure how much you got through to Dreyfus when you'd spoken to him but maybe if you could try again, or if he and Caesar could just talk...

There was, however, the not-so-small matter of Carver and McVeigh that needed to be dealt with. You didn't think for a second Caesar would simply forget about it. Nor you.

You dressed slowly, still achy, wishing you had something more comfortable than jeans. You wondered what kind of clothes they had here. The other night Ellie had mentioned that the community operated on a barter system. What you wouldn't give for a pair of real pajama pants. Nice fuzzy ones.

Caesar stood outside the door like a sentinel. His bearing couldn't have been any more alert but his head swiveled as you exited, attention trained solely on you.

“I'm pretty much fine,” you said, answering his unspoken question. “Don't worry.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he ran one finger over the curve of your shoulder. “That can never be.”

“We have to go talk to Dreyfus,” you said, taking a left outside the medical center and trying to remember the way back to his office. “I've spoken to him already, told him that the apes don't want to fight. But I think he should hear it from you.”

“If you think he will listen.”

“I do.”

As you made your way through the warren of hallways in the building, your earlier decision to not care what anyone thought wilted. There had been a few dozen witnesses to the incident in the intersection, and who knows how many more had seen your unconscious journey to the medical center. And everyone else undoubtedly heard it through the grapevine by now. People shuffled back as you passed, conversations cutting out like a radio suddenly being shut off. Caesar was a titan at your side, moving with purpose, heedless of the whispering and alarmed gawking.

You realized now the risk he'd taken, coming into the building. He'd wanted to watch over you but in doing so he opened himself up to a potential attack. The chance of that was probably low, it seemed clear (at least to you) that he posed no threat, but Carver and McVeigh were proof enough that there were always a few bad apples. The scrutiny unnerved you, making you feel small.

And then he took your hand. You startled a little, afraid of the reactions it might garner, but concluded that it would reveal nothing that hadn't been already made obvious in the intersection. So you ignored the staring faces and curved your fingers around his, holding your chin up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I don't know what you want me to say.”

Dreyfus struggled to maintain direct eye contact. Behind his glasses he seemed frazzled, as if the past few hours hadn't been enough to acclimatize him to the rather unique series of events. He hadn't offered you a chair this time.

“You know... what we want to hear.” Caesar left no room for misunderstandings. “That the men who took my mate will be punished.”

You'd never heard him use that word before. You slid him a sidelong glance, but he was too focused on Dreyfus to meet it.

“Look, I don't know where McVeigh is. Knowing him he probably took off, hiding in the city somewhere. Carver's been found and detained.” Dreyfus actually looked mildly offended. “We do have laws here, and methods for dealing with those who break them.”

“It is also... my belief,” Caesar added, “That humans and apes can come to some kind of... agreement, to...”

He paused and then signed to you, a phrase that didn't quite translate, and you supplied, “To live side by side.”

“We do not have to be friends,” Caesar continued. “But there can be... tolerance.”

Dreyfus sighed heavily and leaned back on his desk. He stared pensively across the room, cogs and calculations ticking in his head.

“I don't want conflict either,” he relented. When he looked back to Caesar his eyes met, and held, and for just a moment you had a glimpse of the understanding that could and might be.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The marketplace hummed with energy, as it had the morning you'd arrived, but of a different kind now. The liveliness was gone but the atmosphere was more curious than tense, which you figured was preferable.

It seemed as if the whole community had turned up for the show. A loose circle had formed around you and, to your left, a sullen and rumpled Carver. His gaze drifted around, and he scuffed the ground with his shoe.

Above you on a walkway was Dreyfus.

“I figure we all know why we've gathered here,” he began, without any preamble. “We do this not just because the accused's behavior isn't tolerated here, but as a gesture of good faith.” With one hand he indicated the mezzanine behind him, looking out over the intersection. Despite Caesar's deep reluctance it was decided between the three of you that the apes would not be present, so they wouldn't be seen as intruding on human business or affecting the outcome of the trial.

“I've spoken with the ape's leader – he's called Caesar. They and us have more in common than we might have first realized.” Dreyfus knew how to talk to a crowd, you'd give him that much. “But that's something for us to discuss later. And we will. But that's not why we're here right now.”

He focused back on you, and simultaneously so did everyone else, in almost eerie unison. For half a second it was difficult to remember they were all individuals, rather than a hive of drones out to get you.

“Firefly's going to tell us in her own words what happened,” Dreyfus laid out, “And Carver will get a chance to defend himself.”

Hundreds of pairs of eyes, men and women and children, waiting to hear what this stranger had to say. You decided the truth – or at least, most of it – was best.

You took a deep breath.

“As I'm sure most of you you now know, Malcolm and Alexander found an injured ape and brought him back here to be treated.” You picked a random point ahead of you to focus on – a pillar, with a tendril of ivy climbing up it. “They put him in the office building to the south since they didn't know how everyone would react to his presence. I was visiting him. When I left the building through the back alley, Carver and his friend McVeigh grabbed me. They dragged me into one of the office suites and handcuffed me to a radiator overnight. Carver told me... that I had been with the apes too long and wasn't thinking clearly. That I had to be kept away from them for my own good until I could start to see reason. He thinks I'm incapable of making my own choice.”

“That's just an assumption,” Carver butted in. “I never said that! But it just isn't normal for someone to want to be with animals over her own kind. Look, we all know how it can screw with your head, having to survive out there alone. It's not a stretch to figure the same happened to her, and if she was given a little time she'd come to her senses.”

“Now who's making assumptions?” You scowled at him – at the folksy way he stuffed his hands in his pockets, at his “aw shucks” shrug. “You literally kidnapped me!”

“I was rescuing you. I was doing you a favor!”

“If that's your idea of a favor, I'd hate to see what you'd do for someone you disliked.”

A low chuckle ran through the crowd and for a brief moment you felt buoyed up, vindicated.

“Whatever is happening here isn't right.” Carver threw up his hands as if the conclusion was foregone, speaking to those gathered instead of you, steamrolling over your arguments and trying to win their support. “It isn't natural.”

You felt your cheeks heat as everyone waited for you to address what they had surely been gossiping about. You weren't ashamed, but what you had with Caesar wasn't on display for consumption and judgment and picking apart, either.

“My relationships are my own,” you said. You allowed yourself to meet the eyes of those present. Your heart raced as you let your gaze flick from face to face; the interested and the suspicious and the attentive. They needed to see you as another person, a fellow human who had been wrongly done by. “The apes are my friends. They've been good to me. Cared for me. They want and deserve to live in peace just as everyone here does.”

“Talk all you want about love and harmony and kumbaya, but are we just going to ignore what's going on between her and that ape? I saw it up at the dam, and you all saw it this morning.” Carver rounded on you, accusatory and disgusted. “Do you fuck him, too?”

There was a collective intake of breath from the crowd at his vulgarity, punctured by a single shocked guffaw from the back. You focused on the pillar again.

“That's enough,” Dreyfus said, lip curling in disdain at Carver's outburst. “We're here to ascertain whether or not you abducted someone, held her by force and against her will, and you don't seem to be denying it.”

Carver shrugged again, defensively, but with a sort of puritanical surety. “I think the circumstances warranted it.”

“She seems pretty sound of mind to me,” Dreyfus acknowledged. He cast his gaze out over the assembly, lifting his brow. “What say we all?”

“The decision to live with the apes was, and still is, mine,” you said loudly, getting the last word in before the vote was cast. “Whether you agree with my choice or not you can at least respect my right to it.”

Dreyfus had no problem letting the people discuss it among themselves but to you it was almost unbearable; the waiting, the snippets you heard of the dissection of you and your life. You tried to tune them out, letting the speculation blur into white noise.

At last Dreyfus cleared his throat. “Who stands with Carver?”

There was a scattered chorus of ayes behind you, a hand or two up on either side. “Monkey fucker,” came a sniggering, teenaged-sounding chortle from somewhere to your right. You resisted the urge to look.

“And who with Firefly?”

Your stomach flipped over as countless arms were raised. “With her,” came the medley of assenting murmurs. “With her.”

"Seems pretty clear-cut to me," Dreyfus concluded. He focused down on Carver, whose smugness was slipping away now to reveal disbelief. 

"You cannot be serious!" Carver objected.

Dreyfus continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You've been found guilty of the crime of which you were accused. Your penalty will be banishment from the city limits for the next... four months." He glanced to you, as if for confirmation. You didn't know if that was considered a harsh or lenient sentence here but it sounded reasonable enough. Dreyfus returned your nod with one of his own.

"Carver, you have an hour to collect your things and get out."

Nobody spoke directly to you as the assembly dispersed, flowing past you like a sluggish river around a rock. There was wariness in their glances but no hostility, no suspicion. That was fine. You'd take it.

You had not seen Ellie in the crowd but she came up to you now, offering you an expectant grin.

"What do you think?" you prompted, glancing around at the thinning crowd. 

“You've provided enough gossip fodder to last a year,” she admitted, with a rueful laugh. “But I'm not surprised the vote went how it did."

"Really?" 

She nodded. "It's good people here. Mostly," she clarified, as Carver slunk away in the opposite direction. You didn't deign to waste another second looking at him. 

“Chuck said you were doing better," she said, changing the subject and pulling you aside out of the flow of traffic.

“I think so.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah.”

She didn't seem surprised. Almost glad for you, even. "I'll take you to the apartment so you can get your bag."

"Listen," you said, stopping her before she could head to the stairs. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done. I don't know what will happen between humans and apes, but... I hope this won't be the last we see of each other."

Her smile was genuine as she watched the people passing by. She knew them, and you trusted her judgement, so you felt a swell of optimism when she concluded, “I don't think it will be.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Caesar and the others were waiting on the other side of the street, sitting on the ground in a loose semi-circle with their horses tied to a lamp-post.

They rose as you approached, faces alight with both interest and something more sensitive. To your surprise Rocket reached out a hand, knuckles first. The commiseration in his face told you plainly that Caesar had told the group of the miscarriage. You accepted the offered toeuch and his big hand brushed over yours, just briefly in acknowledgment. The others gathered around. Maurice inclined his head, and Blue Eyes touched your shoulder; and for the first time there was no hesitation in the young ape's gaze, only sympathy. Koba did not get closer, but that was okay – he didn't avoid eye contact, didn't withdraw, and that was enough.

“Tell me.” Caesar drew almost toe-to-toe with you, running his hands down your arms. “Tell me what happened.”

“I told them the truth. Well, most of it. Maybe not certain exacting circumstances of why I came to live with you.” You angled him a small, knowing smile, one he did not copy. “I said the apes helped me when I needed it, and that I freely choose to return.”

His expression was serious and unblinking as he turned that over in his mind. His lips compressed. “I had... hoped you would still feel that way.”

You almost recoiled. “How could you question that? Of course I do.”

“The humans offer things I cannot. They are your own kind.” He glanced past you towards the mall, and his expression was not resentful, but almost... resigned. “This community, it has... much.”

You thought of the showers you had yet to try, the kind of food you'd grown up with, of the shared language and those who had cared for you. You fitted your hand to his cheek, regaining his attention.

“It doesn't have you.”

His skin was rougher than yours, his features in slightly different alignment, but they were as familiar now to you as if you'd always known them.

“I can't pretend there won't be things I miss about other people,” you admitted, “Or that I can ever forget I'm human. But it isn't them I choose.”

“It is my wish... that someday you will not have to.”

“Maybe sooner than we think.” You fell into step beside Caesar as he turned to the horses, unknotting the reins from the lamp-post. “During the trial, the people there... they sided with me. I wasn't sure if they would, but they did. They listened. Maybe this will be the start of greater understanding between humans and apes.”

Caesar nodded. “Time will tell.”

His hands came to rest on your waist, green-gold eyes searching your face. “Are you too... unwell to ride? Do you want to stay another night?”

In truth, you were still a bit sore. You wouldn't say no to another nap. But you smiled, and shook your head. He captured your hand in both of his and kissed the back.

“I'm fine,” you said. You meant it. “Let's go home.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

You liked mattresses. Mattresses were good. But nests had their virtues as well. The cup shape and slightly springy woven branches were unexpectedly conducive to unbroken sleep, and the layers of pelts were undeniably superior in warmth to a comforter or quilt.

Caesar's fore and middle finger danced one after the other over your throat, down between the valley of your naked breasts and beneath your sternum.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he murmured, his lips grazing your neck.

“You won't.” It had been two weeks since the bleeding ceased, and though the mourning remained deep down, physically you felt back to normal. “I promise.”

“You will... tell me, if I need to stop?”

“Cross my heart.”

His mouth was tentative, then bolder with mounting desire as you encouraged him, turning your body into him and parting your thighs in invitation. The jut of his already thickening arousal sent a lick of heat through your core and he growled, low in his chest. He pressed you down, fur brushing your nipples, but you held him back with a hand to his pectoral.  

“Stop," you breathed. "Turn me around.” You carded your fingers through his fur, shaky with your own rising lust. “I want it to be like the first time.”

Even through the haze of his desire he seemed bemused. “When you were... afraid?”

“When you told me not to be.” You rolled onto your belly, pulling his arms on either side of you. You tipped your ass up into him and he groaned, settling onto you. “And so I wasn't.”

And when he made you feel things, things you couldn't have imagined, in both body and soul; when he'd been both gentle and unyielding, when he'd held himself back and then let himself go, and when you'd caught each other.

It was still intoxicating: how his weight left you out of breath, the tickle of his fur between your legs. When his cock sank into you whimpered at the dizzying satisfaction of the way he stretched and filled you so completely. His pace was a torment, the slow drag out and the thrust back in, and you moaned and grabbed at the pelt until he covered both your hands with his, lacing your fingers together.

He set his teeth over the bite mark he'd left on your shoulder. Just a reminder. A renewal.

“I love you.” His husky voice vibrated against the scar. “Never... leave.”

“No,” you panted. “Never.”

You cried out at the sharp roll of his hips coupled with the intensity of his words. His hands gripped yours almost to the point of pain, as if he wanted to claim you; drown in you. It was a feeling you understood very well.

“Stay with me.” Caesar made it both a command, and a plea. You would respond the same to either. You let out a long, shuddering breath.

“Always.”

 

 

 

* * *

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my readers: thanks for coming along with me on this journey. I've appreciated your reviews and support so much, especially considering how tiny this fandom is, and I sincerely hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed creating it.

 

* * *

 

_**TWO YEARS LATER** _

 

* * *

 

 

Pain. Such pain. You screamed, hoarse and despairing, long past caring about your dignity.

“I can't,” you sobbed. You wanted the sides of the nest to curve over and swallow you up. “Please, I can't do it anymore.”

“You can.” Caesar's voice was a soft rumble in your ear. It was not ape custom for him to be present for such an event and yet for you, he broke it without question. “You will.”

Another contraction seized your body and you clutched his fur, knuckles going white; it had to hurt even him. He didn't make a sound.

The ape midwife hooted a gentle encouragement and you grit your teeth, trembling, close to hyperventilating – and then a release, and the agony was gone, and in her hands had materialized a squalling creature with little flailing fists and cow-licked fur.

You stared and swore under your breath, awed and incomprehensible and exhausted, as the slippery and blood-streaked baby was placed on your chest.

“Hey... hi... shh, it's okay now.” Your jaw ached from hours of clenching it and the words were mere whispers but the cries subsided, tiny dark head turning from side to side, eyes squinting against the late morning light beaming into the cave. The night had seemed an eternity, and through the crushing fog of pain you'd lost faith in Chuck's all-clear for you to deliver in the mountains instead of the city. He'd provided the midwife with an ample kit to cover almost every possible contingency, but in the end, none of the supplies had been necessary.

Above her beaded mask, the midwife's face crinkled with happiness as she signed to Caesar. _A daughter._

A little girl. Yours; and his. Whole and healthy and wriggling. On the ultrasound you'd seen a mere silhouette in black and white, a collection of limbs and a blurry profile and kicking feet, pushing so hard you could feel the lump from the outside. The past nine months had been an exercise in anxiety but now she was here, squirming and making an O with her mouth. She was chubbier than an ape infant, her body furred but her features light in coloring and perhaps not so prominent or wrinkled as an ordinary chimpanzee – but it was hard to tell, with her face still scrunched from delivery.

It didn't matter. She was perfect.

With the back of a shaky hand you pushed sweat-damp hair from your temple, letting your head fall back on your pillow and glancing up at Caesar. His expression was hyper-focused yet reverent, eyes bright and unblinking as he reached out. His one finger was longer than her entire face, and impossibly gentle.

“What should we call her?” you said. You hadn't compiled a list of names when you were pregnant; it seemed strange to name someone you hadn't met yet.

“It is usual to think on it.” He stopped, as if about to speak; his lips parted, like an idea had occurred to him, but he hesitated.

“What is it?” you pressed.

He smiled at the baby. Thinking. “Out of many prickles, beauty.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The normally gray courtyard was swathed in color, adorned with garlands of golden yarrow and bowl after bowl of fruit and heaped fish, along with fresh crusty loaves of bread and a basket of eggs – gifts from the city. Several trucks had come for the feast.

Around your head was a circlet of supple willow branches and delicate white blossoms, and the fresh scent of the greenery floated around you. Leaf and Robin had made it. Deep down you'd been apprehensive of any of the apes being resentful or jealous, but you shouldn't have worried. You had felt only love and support. Besides, Robin was newly pregnant again, and Chuck had prescribed a drug that might have a shot at helping it stick.

“I thought this would be useful.” Ellie had brought a bundle of blue paisley fabric, and as she unfolded it you recognized it as a baby sling. Warmth infused her face as she crouched to look at the baby, nestled half-asleep in the crook of your arm and clinging to your shirt with tiny peach-fuzzed hands. “Does she have a name yet?”

Ellie visited often, and had become semi-fluent in sign, so you showed her – a fist, turned in a semi-circle as the fingers opened like that of a flower.

“Thistle.”

Apes and humans alike paid homage with gifts and greetings bestowed on you and Caesar at your cave's entrance, and below you in the courtyard they ate together. Malcolm and Ellie and Alexander; Janet, another nurse you'd become close during your prenatal visits; Janet's teenage daughters, who were learning the tricks of the trade and who seemed fascinated by their surroundings; a handful of others you'd grown to know; even Dreyfus, who you weren't particularly close with, had come as a mark of respect.

Watching them, Caesar's face radiated utter contentment. The standard alertness in his posture was replaced with easy tranquility, the corners of his mouth soft. All he had hoped for was coming to fruition. With your free hand you reached for his, squeezing the calloused knuckles.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” He flipped your hand over, brushing the pad of his thumb over the center of your palm. He tilted his head to look at Thistle, his eyes creasing as she yawned in her sleep. “Even if it was just you and me and my children, I would be happy.”

Speaking of, your gaze drifted over the rather noisy assembly until you found Blue Eyes sitting with a knot of adolescents, both human and ape. Lately he'd been spending a lot of time with Lake. You wondered if anything would come of it. Judging by the way Lake kept peeking at him, you didn't think it was too much of a stretch.

Looking out at your adopted people, their conviviality buoyed you up like a bubble on the wind. You knew their names and faces, their scars and stories – as they knew yours. At the beginning the coexistence between them and the humans was stilted, and while there were still those among each group who remained skeptical of the other, the scales were weighted more towards tentative and respectful curiosity and over time they had reached a peaceful parallel.

Respect; peace; love. Jaded as you'd once been, you'd seen such notions as properties of an idyllic and bygone past. But they had been found – created, coaxed out, like a breath on a single flame – in a world you'd given up on as past saving. The bad would always exist, in the former world and this one and whatever was to come, but so would goodness, waiting just below the surface. And that was something worth fighting for.

Caesar's attention was on you now, and when you met his eyes one brow rose in a wordless request to share your thoughts.

How to express the immensity of your feelings? You considered all the words you knew in his language and yours. You reclaimed your hand and pressed it to your heart, then signed to him.

_Family. Love._

Caesar's hand was steady on your lower back. He did not have to speak. He understood.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone had gone. Through the cave's entrance the night was indigo, streaked with wisps of clouds over scattered silver stars. It was just you and Caesar now, and the crackle of the low fire in the pit. You'd appreciated the gifts and food and congratulations, both your heart and stomach full to bursting, but you were drained and still sore. The quiet was restful and welcome, like a clean and cozy blanket.

Thistle slept peacefully between you in the nest, snoring faintly, curled up on her belly with her hands by her face. Under your fingertips her fur was downy soft, like a duckling's. You knew her body was naturally recreating the position she'd been in snug inside your womb, but you couldn't help but note how Caesar slept that way, too.

“What are you thinking?” you prodded him; quiet, so as not to wake her. He lay propped on one elbow, eyes roving slowly over her.

“She is very small,” he said solemnly.

“Chuck weighed her in at five and a half pounds and said that was fine.” Caesar didn't seem convinced, and you giggled silently. “It's not like you haven't seen a baby before.”

“It's been... a long time.”

You took in the lines and ridges of his noble features, the gem-like hazel of his eyes, their mellow heavy lids and his serious, fascinated observation of her. Inscribing it onto your soul.

“I'm glad it was you,” you blurted suddenly. You had to stifle a self-deprecating laugh. “When I first came here, and you made your proposal and I accepted... and I didn't know who I would, you know, have to...”

Caesar leaned over Thistle, careful not to disturb her, and slid his hand around to the nape of your neck. “It was always going to be me.” His forehead lowered to yours. His lashes fluttered closed, but the set of his jaw was resolute. “And since that first night, it was always you.”

You inhaled his scent, lulled into languor; when your arms came sleepily around his shoulders he adjusted his position so as not to break the contact, your bodies forming an inverted V around your child. His arm went above her like a bridge, settling steadfast and sure on your waist.

Home.

And on you went into the embrace of slumber, protected and loved and swayed by the timeless beat of three hearts in the night.

 

 

* * *

 

_**THE END** _

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
